


Catalyst

by bjfic_archivist



Category: Queer as Folk (US)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Canon, Drama, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Sequel, Unsafe Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2006-01-01
Updated: 2006-02-03
Packaged: 2018-12-26 19:00:53
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 10
Words: 61,829
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12065085
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bjfic_archivist/pseuds/bjfic_archivist
Summary: Sequel toClarity.Brian and Justin deal with the further adventures of marriage and family.





	1. Chapter One

**Author's Note:**

> Note from IrishCaelan, the archivist: this story was originally archived at [The Brian/Justin Fanfiction Archive](http://fanlore.org/wiki/Brian_Justin_Fanfiction_Archive). To preserve the archive, I began importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project in September 2017. I posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact me using the e-mail address on [The Brian/Justin Fanfiction Archive collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/bjfic/profile).

He could still remember the first time Jack hit him. He was three and had accidentally colored on the kitchen table when he had lost his grip on his favorite blue crayon and it had skidded off the paper. He hadn’t told his mother—she would have yelled at him, called him a messy child, and he didn’t want to disappoint her. So instead he slightly adjusted the placemat to cover the mark, picked up his paper and crayons, and climbed the stairs to his room.

Less than an hour later, as he had sat on his bed playing with a toy truck his Grandpa O’Connell had bought him for Christmas, his door had been pushed open with such force that he dropped the truck onto he floor, snapping off one of the wheels in the process. His father had stood in the doorway, tall and menacing. Even at the age of three, Brian had known his father was drunk. 

And then Jack began to yell. Sure, he’d expected the yelling, but when the man’s large calloused hand made sharp contact with his face, hurtling him against the small headboard of his bed, he’d been too afraid to utter a sound. 

But now, looking back on it, he knew that was when he’d gotten his first real taste of fear. Not just the fear of physical violence. That was the least of his fears, really. That was when he realized the danger of opening up to people. It was safer to hold yourself back, to keep distance between yourself and other people, because when there was distance, regardless of the kind of hurt perpetrated, whether physical or emotional or both, it hurt less if you hadn’t invested your emotions in the other person.

Brian sighed and looked out the large windows overlooking the snow-covered streets of downtown Pittsburgh. Then there was Michael. Michael had been the first person he’d really ever opened up to, the first person he had, non-romantically, of course, given his heart to. And now it was Michael who had attacked his child—behavior that was inexcusable.

He turned away from the windows and peered through the glass partitions separating the sleeping area from the rest of the master suite, his eyes taking in the blond hair just visible amid the bunched-up duvet. If Michael had the power to hurt him to this degree, then how much power had he abdicated to Justin? Yet, amazingly enough, when he climbed the steps leading to the bed and looked down at the younger man, the reminiscent fear of just moments earlier was replaced by a sense of calm. Smiling slightly to himself, he walked around to the other side of the bed and climbed in beside his husband, his smile growing slightly wider as the younger man groaned and then, still asleep, whispered his name and turned enough to wrap his arms around him, his head finding its way under Brian’s chin.

***

Brian rolled over in bed and took in the blond hair cascading over his husband’s forehead. He still couldn’t believe that just a few days earlier he and Justin had stood before the priest and exchanged their vows. He’d always believed he would remain single, that he would never marry. And now here he was, not even thirty, and married to a beautiful man nearly twelve years his junior.

“Mm, why are you staring at me?” Justin whispered, his eyes still closed and his face half-buried in his pillow.

“Couldn’t help it.” Brian leaned forward and nuzzled the younger man’s neck, his lips connecting first with the pulse point just below his earlobe, then beginning to trail down the length of the smooth white column. He pushed the duvet away from Justin’s chest and continued his journey, kissing and nipping at the smaller man’s smooth skin. “Technically this is our honeymoon.” He looked up at his husband and smiled as the blond’s eyes opened. 

“Yeah.” Justin gently cupped the back of Brian’s head in his left hand and drew the man up before kissing him soundly. “It is. So what do you want to do on our honeymoon?”

“Hm, well, since this one is gonna have to be spent at home, I suggest a healthy diet of fucking, sleeping, and eating. Though I suppose we could venture out from time to time.” He placed a light kiss on his husband’s shoulder. “But we’ll have a proper honeymoon this summer, before you start school. Wherever you want to go. And maybe we could bring Daphne again to watch Finlay for us.”

“Sounds like a plan.” Justin reached up and brushed Brian’s chestnut hair away from his forehead. “So it’s only seven-thirty. We don’t have to be at Lindsay and Mel’s until noon.” He gently pushed Brian onto his back, then freed himself from the duvet and climbed atop the taller man’s slender form, his hands catching his husband’s, their fingers twining together above their heads.

***

Justin always found it calming, after a morning fuck, to wash Brian from head to toe, his soapy hands sliding over the older man’s lithe form, his fingers gently kneading the muscles as they danced along tanned skin. He was sure that by the time he mastered the art of sculpting, he would know Brian’s body so completely that he could create a likeness without having to ask the man to pose.

Brian stepped under the cascading water, letting it rinse all traces of the soap away, then reached for Justin’s shampoo and squirted some into his hands. He rubbed his hands together, then began working the shampoo through the shorter man’s hair.

“Think Finlay’s gonna like his presents?”

“Hm, he’ll probably like the paper and boxes more,” Justin replied with a quiet laugh. “But Christmases and birthdays should definitely start to get more interesting now. I mean, last Christmas he was just a little over a month old, so he slept through most of it, and cried through the rest.” He frowned for a moment. “Shannon’s parents went to church, and then to a friend’s house a couple hours outside of Chicago. I stayed at the house with Fin.” He tilted his head back and let the water rinse the shampoo from his hair.

“Hm . . . sounds like my house when I was a kid. My mother would decorate the entire house . . . garlands and candles everywhere . . . then she’d go to church every day for a week leading up to Christmas. Pop would get drunk and pass out in the living room before she got back. When Claire got to be old enough she’d sneak out to be with her friends. And I’d sit in my room and read or study. Mom would come home, Pop would wake up, they’d start fighting, something would get broken . . .”

Justin reached up, his hands finding Brian’s cheeks and directing the man’s hazel gaze back to his own blue eyes. “Only happy Christmas memories for Finlay and Gus. And any other kids we might have.”

“We might have more kids?” Brian cocked an eyebrow and grinned at his husband.

“Eventually.” Justin leaned forward and kissed Brian soundly once more, then lightly tapped his stomach with the back of his hand. “Come on, Fin will be up any minute.”

***

As predicted, Finlay spent considerably more time playing with the large pieces of wrapping paper and clothing boxes than he did playing with the toys his fathers had bought him. He seemed to derive pleasure specifically from putting a large light-weight clothing box over his head, then taking it off, then putting it on again. Eventually, though, even he had enough Christmas excitement and began to get a bit cranky, so Justin carried him upstairs and laid him in his crib for a short nap. When he returned downstairs it was to find that Brian had cleaned up the mess of wrapping paper that had been scattered around the living room, and was now sitting on a futon cushion that he had placed near the tree.

“So is this why you bought these things?” Justin grinned and dropped down onto the cushion, his knees sinking into the soft padding and his arms automatically looping around Brian’s waist.

“Hard dicks are good. Hard floors are not.” He offered a lopsided grin, then pressed a quick kiss to Justin’s lips before pulling away and reaching under the tree and removing a large rectangular box wrapped in white paper and tied with an emerald green bow. “Here.”

“You didn’t have to get me anything.”

“Don’t be a twat – just open it.”

Justin began chewing on his bottom lip as he slowly untied the bow, then carefully opened the box. Inside he found a large wooden box with an inlaid crisscross design of what appeared to be rosewood and maple. The corners were protected by cross-shaped pieces of cast iron. On the front of the box was a recessed lock. The key was in a small plastic bag taped beside the lock.

“Brian, it’s beautiful.” He carefully lifted it from the white box, and set it on the cushion between them. 

“Open it.” He watched as Justin removed the key from the bag, then slid it into the lock and turned it. “Lindsay helped me pick it all out.”

“Brian.” His husband’s name was little more than a whisper as Justin reached into the box and ran his fingers over the collection of high-quality paintbrushes, pencils, charcoals, and other various tools. “This is amazing. Thank you.”

“Every true artist needs a safe place to store his materials. Plus, with the kids around it would probably be a good idea to lock some stuff up so they don’t ruin it.”

“True.” Leaning forward, Justin placed a soft kiss of Brian’s lips. “I love it.” He smiled slightly. “Now it’s your turn.”

“I thought you didn’t get me anything. Wasn’t that what the big drama was about the other day?” Brian asked as Justin retrieved a large, relatively flat package and handed it to him.

“Technically, this isn’t from me. Just open it.”

“Fine.” Brian heaved a sigh, then grinned at the younger man as he untied the black ribbon and carefully ripped open the silver paper. As he did so his eyes fell on a picture of himself, asleep on the sofa, Gus wrapped in a blanket and sleeping on his chest. He let his eyes drift to the other picture attached to the canvas, this one of him sitting on the sofa, Finlay straddling his knee, the little boy holding a sippy cup in one hand and pointing excitedly at something with the other. Brian’s hands were wrapped protectively around the child’s stomach, keeping him from falling, and a small smile graced his lips. 

His eyes drifted to the little foot and hand prints surrounding the photographs. Tiny little prints that he already cherished, and that he knew he would cherish even more as the children grew.

“The boys wanted you to have something from them.”

“They did, huh?” Brian’s eyes met his husband’s.

“Yeah. So I helped them out. But this is totally from them.”

“How did you manage to get Gus’s prints?”

“Lindsay. She brought him over one day while you were out.”

“Thank you.” He carefully set the canvas on the coffee table, then placed Justin’s art box on the floor beside the cushion. “I think we should hang it in the upstairs living room.”

“We can hang it wherever you want,” Justin replied, as Brian inched forward, his lips finding the younger man’s. “We still have an hour before we have to be at Mel and Lindsay’s.”

“Then I say we should most definitely make love beside the tree on this fine Christmas morning.” He deftly pulled Justin’s tee shirt over his head and dropped it onto the floor, then pushed the younger man back onto the cushion.

***

“I should call Gran,” Justin remarked a little while later as he pulled on a white tee shirt, quickly followed by a gray sweater. He glanced at his reflection in the mirror, deciding that he was definitely dressy enough for Christmas dinner, but still casual enough to enjoy the festivities with two young children.

“Yeah, I’m sure she’d like to hear from you,” Brian replied absently from where he stood in the bathroom, running his fingers through his slightly damp hair to get that wonderfully disheveled look he was known for. “Is she at her house, or does she spend the holidays somewhere else?”

“It usually depends on how she feels. Sometimes she stays at the house. She told me once that she likes to think of it as her way of spending Christmas with Grandpa Erik. Usually she goes to my Uncle Andrew’s house, though. He’s not that far from her, and his kids are still sort of young enough to enjoy Christmas without being all greedy about it.”

“Well, track her down.” Brian exited the bathroom, placing a quick kiss on Justin’s lips as he made his way to their closet.

“You know she’s gonna want to talk to you, too,” Justin called as he exited the bedroom area and made his way toward the white sofa, cell phone in hand. He quickly dialed his great grandmother’s number, then sat down as he waited for an answer. When he got none, he hung up and began scrolling through the numbers in his phone book, finally finding his uncle’s. The phone rang just two times before a voice on the other end answered.

“Hello?”

“Aunt Cathy? It’s Justin.”

“Who?”

“Justin. Jennifer’s son,” he explained, raising his voice slightly so as to be heard above the Christmas din in the background.

“Oh. Yes.” He heard a shift in her voice as she realized she was talking to the family outcast. “So what’s the purpose of this call?”

“Is Gran there? I just wanted to wish her a Merry Christmas.”

“Just a moment.” He heard the phone being set down, heard the muffled voices of his relatives and their friends. He could just imagine the festivities—he’d been forced to attend Andrew’s Christmas parties often enough as a child. Rarely did they have Christmas in their own home; it was just too much of a hassle for his parents.

“Justin!”

“Hi Gran. Merry Christmas.”

“Merry Christmas to you, too. How are you boys doing?” The noise in the background began to fade and a moment later Justin heard a door shut.

“We’re really good. Finlay got a lot of nice presents, though he had more fun playing with the boxes they came in. Brian has every intention of turning him into a mini-label queen, though.”

“Somehow that doesn’t surprise me,” she said with a slight laugh.

“I have something else to tell you, too.” He gazed down at the platinum ring surrounding his finger and smiled. Soft lips pressed against the back of his neck and a moment later Brian sank onto the sofa beside him. “Actually, I’ll let my husband tell you.” He grinned and handed the phone to Brian amid Inga’s exclamations.

“You’re such a brat, Blondie,” Brian muttered, delivering a quick kiss to the younger man’s lips before leaning back. He pressed the phone against his ear. “Hi.” He shifted around until his back was against the arm of the sofa. Justin immediately crawled between his legs and settled against his chest. “Yes, we got married. The 22nd. No, just us and the priest. Yeah, I’ve got connections of the clerical variety. Not right now, we’re just sort of laying low for a bit. I don’t know. We haven’t really talked about it yet.” His fingers found their way under Justin’s sweater, the tips rubbing gentle circles on the younger man’s skin. “Thank you. That really means a lot,” Brian said, his voice much gentler, almost the same tone he used with Finlay. “Okay. Have a good Christmas.” He handed the phone back to Justin with a small grin.

“Yes, Gran?”

“You hold onto that boy, Justin. He’s a good one,” she replied, her smile obvious in her voice. “And you bring him and that son of yours to visit me soon, okay?”

“We will, I promise. As soon as the winter eases up a bit we’ll be there. Bye, Gran.” After waiting for her soft goodbye, he closed the phone and tossed it onto the coffee table, then allowed himself a few more moments of lying on the sofa with his husband before the rest of the day’s craziness consumed them.

***

“What would you say to extending our honeymoon a bit?” Brian asked, glancing over at Justin as the younger man changed lanes to pass a slow-moving station wagon.

“Seriously?” He stepped on the brake and came to a stop at a red light, then turned and looked at his husband, a wide smile turning his lips upward.

“Yeah. Just for a couple days. Now that the holidays are mostly over things are going to pick up at the agency . . . ads always need to be revamped for the summer. But I can take a couple extra days off.”

“You’re supposed to go back on the third, right?”

“Yeah. But there are no meetings lined up. For the next few weeks I’ll just be scouting potential clients, gathering research on them, that sort of thing. So it’s not a big deal if I take a couple extra days.”

“I would definitely like it if you could stay home a little longer.” Justin leaned over and slowly kissed Brian before the sound of a beeping car horn made him lean back and step on the gas once again.

***

Brian stood in the kitchen, a beer in his hand, as he watched Lindsay stir a pot of something he definitely didn’t recognize by either sight or smell. She had dressed up for this particular Christmas, even more so than usual. She wore a form-fitting red button-down shirt and a flowing black skirt that swirled around her knees, creating the illusion that she was slightly thinner than she was. Unfortunately, the baby fat gained during pregnancy was proving harder to lose than she’d imagined.

“So how are you and Justin enjoying your honeymoon?” She smiled, then set down the spoon she had been using and turned to face him.

“It’s been good. Christ, I never in all my life imagined I’d be married. Or that I’d have a honeymoon. It’s just so . . . hetero.” His eyes alighted on his ring for a moment.

“And totally against the credo you’ve lived by for as long as I’ve known you.”

“Yeah.” Brian remained silent, but smiled for a moment, then opened the fridge and pulled out another beer. “I just wish we could get away from the Pitts for a little while.” He gazed out the kitchen window for a moment at the large snowflakes that drifted past, his eyes following the snow as it landed on the birdbath in the center of the backyard.

He knew the instant Justin stepped into the kitchen. It was like some sort of sixth sense letting him know his husband was near. Tearing his gaze away from the window, he turned to the blond man.

“Hey.”

“Hey.” Brian reached forward and, with his free hand, drew Justin to him, placing a light kiss on his lips. “Finlay sleeping again?”

“Yeah, but it won’t be for long.” He turned toward the stove and peered at the contents of the pot that was simmering on it. “That smells fantastic, Lindsay.”

“Thanks. The turkey should be done soon.”

“Great. I’m starving.”

“Tell us something we don’t know.” Brian offered a tongue-in-cheek grin. “Ow. Stop pinching me, twat.”

“Is that any way to speak to your husband?” Justin replied, holding back a chuckle.

“It is when he’s being one.”

“Ugh. No more speaking of twats.”

“No twat-talk in the house that lesbians built?” Brian heaved a put-upon sigh. “Fine. But what will the neighbors think?”

“Maybe they’ll think our friends aren’t completely insane. Though after Ted and Emmett showed up for Halloween last year dressed as Tristan and Isolde, it might take a lot more than not speaking of twats,” Mel replied as she entered the kitchen, Gus held securely against her chest. Her eyes shifted to Lindsay. “He’s getting hungry.”

“Oh, okay.” The blonde woman turned the heat down on the stove, then placed the cover back on the pot to allow its contents to simmer, and gently picked up her son. “I’ll be back in twenty minutes, then. Honey, could you keep an eye on the stew?”

“Sure.” Mel’s eyes followed Lindsay as she walked out of the kitchen, before she turned her attention back to Brian and Justin. The two men had their arms around each other; Brian had scrunched down so that his forehead rested against Justin’s. The older man’s right hand, still holding the beer bottle, rested over Justin’s left shoulder, while his left hand pressed against the small of his back.

“Make me forget that twats were ever mentioned,” Brian pleaded quietly, his lips curving upward in a slight grin. His smile grew wider as Justin’s right hand found its way into his hair, drawing him into a slow, sensuous kiss.

“Honey! The newlyweds are about to fuck in our kitchen!” Mel turned to the couple, then sighed.

“Please, Mel, give us some credit—we would never fuck in someone else’s kitchen.” Brian pretended to glare at her while Justin tried unsuccessfully to hold back a laugh.

“Yeah, Mel, we wouldn’t do that. I mean, it would be rude. And not hygienic at all.” Justin smiled at her, displaying a bright, innocent smile.

“I’ll take your word for it, then, since you’re so much better behaved than he is.” She cut her eyes in Brian’s direction, then turned and wandered back into the living room.

“Mm, don’t know if I can go two more hours without fucking,” Justin murmured as he grabbed Brian’s beer and finished it.

“Hm . . . well, you _have_ been wanting it a lot more since I put that ring on your finger.” He smiled at the shorter man, then plucked the empty bottle from his hand and set it on the counter.

“Like you haven’t?” 

“True. Come on, then.” Brian reached for Justin’s hand and led him into the small guest bathroom down a short hallway just off the kitchen, on the other side of the laundry room. 

“I don’t think we’ve ever fucked in a bathroom this small,” Justin remarked as he reached for Brian’s zipper while at the same time fishing a condom from one of the many pockets of his cargo pants.

“We’ll just have to make do,” Brian replied, pulling Justin forward for a kiss. “Need you.” 

“Hard and fast?” 

“Yeah.” He gently kissed the shorter man’s flushed lips, then turned and, using his hands, braced himself against the wall.

In the kitchen Mel could hear the quiet gasps and moans emanating from the bathroom. In the past she probably would have been more irritated that the two men were fucking in her home but now . . . now she wasn’t sure how she felt, but it didn’t bother her as much as it would have previously.

***

Brian’s forehead rested against the cool tiled wall of the bathroom, Justin behind him, his arms wrapped around the taller man’s waist, his chest pressed to Brian’s back, as the two waited for their breathing to get back to normal. He felt Justin shift slightly and place a light kiss on his shoulder.

“Think the girls will be mad?”

“Probably,” Brian replied, turning around. “But at least I didn’t get any cum on their wall.” 

“And you got fucked by an incredibly hot blond.”

“Yeah, that too.” He placed a quick kiss on Justin’s lips. “We should probably get back. Who knows what lezzy things they’ve done to our sons. They could be dressing them in flannel for all we know.”

“Gus would look cute in flannel,” Justin replied, picking up his shirt from the top of the toilet seat and turning it right side out. “And don’t even think about trying to claim you never wore flannel. You were in college when grunge took over so you had to have worn flannel.”

“It was a fashion statement then.” He quickly zipped his jeans, then took the shirt Justin held out to him and quickly slipped it over his head. Opening the bathroom door, he walked down the short hallway and stepped into the kitchen, the younger man following him, and retrieved two bottles of water from the fridge. “Though god only knows why.” He handed Justin one of the bottles, then wrapped his arm around his shoulders. “But I will admit that those flannel pajama pants you wear all the time make your ass look really good—even if you _did_ get them from the fucking GAP.” He steered the younger man into the living room then stopped in his tracks as he took in the looks the two women were directing at them. “What?”

***

Justin peered through the glass dividers until he located Brian. The older man was sitting on the white sofa, a glass of whiskey in his right hand. Wrapping the blue top sheet around his shoulders to ward off the slight chill of the loft, Justin climbed out of the bed and made his way to the sitting area.

“What’s wrong?” He reached over the back of the sofa and ran his fingers through his husband’s disheveled hair.

“Couldn’t sleep. Just thinking.” He shifted closer to the arm of the sofa, then gestured for the younger man to join him. When Justin sat down and leaned against him, he sighed. “I don’t know what to do about Michael. He’s been my friend for half my life, but I can’t keep making excuses for his behavior, especially when it affects our kids.” His eyes focused on Justin’s for a moment before he gazed away again. “I just . . . he saw what I went through with my old man . . .”

“Yeah, he did. All the more reason to be angry with him. He should have known better than to do that. I’m not going to forgive him. If you want to that’s your business. But I don’t want either of our kids near him.”

“I don’t want to forgive him. But I don’t know if I can just toss away fifteen years of friendship.” Brian raised the glass to his lips and finished his drink. “I don’t want to talk to him right now. And I think it’ll be a long time before I’m willing to talk to him. And I don’t want our kids around him, either, not when he’s acting like this. But I can’t imagine never talking to him again.” He looped his arm around the younger man’s shoulders, drawing him even closer and, his chin resting gently on the soft blond locks, sighed as his mind continued to run in circles.

***

“So you’ve finally emerged!” Emmett shouted above the loud music pulsing through the inner sanctum of Babylon as Brian and Justin made their way over to the bar. “I thought you would’ve stayed at home basking in your newfound connubial bliss.”

“We did. We basked before we came here, and we’ll bask some more when we get home.” Brian grinned, then gestured to the bartender and ordered two beers.

“Baby, you should get a Cosmo,” Emmett advised, wrapping his arm around Justin’s shoulders. “They’re fantastic.”

Brian turned toward the other man and grimaced. “You’re such a queen, Honeycutt.”

“Yes I am.” Emmett nodded vigorously, then returned his attention to Justin. 

“I’m not a Cosmo kind of guy.” He grinned as Brian hooked his long slender fingers in the waistband of his jeans and pulled him from Emmett’s grasp. Justin took the beer Brian offered, then turned so he was once again facing Emmett, his back against Brian’s chest, and Brian’s free arm wrapped around his waist. He glanced around for a moment, taking in the massive number of bodies crammed onto the dance floor. “Is it always this busy here on New Year’s Eve?”

“Of course.” Emmett turned slightly, his eyes roaming over the sweaty bodies adorned with large pieces of glitter, twisting and writhing on the dance floor. Brian and Justin followed his gaze and, as they began to look around, their eyes landed upon Michael and David, their arms around each other as they danced. “I really didn’t think they’d be here tonight. Thought they’d be ringing in the New Year at a party given by one of David’s snooty friends.”

“Michael’s full of surprises,” Brian replied. His hand left Justin’s waist, his fingers drifting into the long hair at the base of the younger man’s neck. He planted a light kiss on his husband’s neck. “Come on, Blondie, let’s dance.” 

***

Brian smiled as he watched Justin tilt his head back, the large pieces of glitter that fell from the ceiling landing on his damp skin and in his hair. He leaned forward and began trailing kisses down the younger man’s neck.

“Five more minutes.” Brian leaned back and looked at his husband as they continued to dance. “Five more minutes until this year is over.”

“Overall it’s been a pretty good year, though.” Justin grinned, then wrapped his arms more securely around Brian’s waist. “With one or two exceptions.” His gaze shifted as he looked over Brian’s shoulder and his lips formed a straight line. “Speaking of those exceptions . . .” He nodded in the direction he was looking.

Brian turned and found himself face to face with Michael, David standing some distance back, his eye on them, but apparently giving them space. He felt Justin place a hand on his back, sure that the younger man felt the tenseness coming off of him just as surely as he felt the tenseness radiating through Justin’s fingertips.

“What do you want?” Brian looped an arm around Justin’s neck and pulled him closer, doing his best not to care when he noticed the tears gathering in Michael’s eyes or the way his jaw trembled almost invisibly.

“I just . . . I’m sorry . . . about what happened. I never meant . . . I was just surprised. I didn’t mean to do . . . what I did. I just lost control. I was upset. I didn’t think . . .”

“No, you _didn’t_ think.”

“I’m sorry.”

“It doesn’t change anything,” Brian remarked. “I can forgive a lot of things, you know that. But I don’t know why you think I’ll forgive your hitting our son.” He gestured to himself and Justin. “I just can’t understand, even if you were upset, even if you were angry, how you could hit him. That’s not something you can rationalize.”

“Is he okay?”

“Yeah. Fortunately,” Justin replied, glaring at the dark-haired man, “he’s not likely to have any memory of it. But that doesn’t mean _we_ don’t. And right now we don’t trust you.”

“Brian?”

“Just go back to David, Michael. Celebrate the New Year with him, because you’re not celebrating it with me.” He turned Justin until the younger man was facing him, then leaned forward until their foreheads were touching as the men around them began counting down the New Year at the urging of a not-so-attractive emcee wearing a dress with a large crystal-ball style skirt, and replicas of the balls in Times Square dangling from her earlobes. As they reached number one, Justin leaned forward and pressed his lips to Brian’s, their kiss lasting long after those around them finished and resumed dancing.

***

Justin reached up and pulled Brian’s head down to his until their lips met in a slow, wet kiss, his tongue lightly drifting along the inside of the brunet’s bottom lip, tracing the little bumps left by the older man’s habit of occasionally chewing the skin. He began to play with the damp hair at the back of his husband’s head, his pale fingers disappearing among the chestnut strands.

“Brian,” he whispered as he tore his mouth away from the other man’s, his eyes opening just enough to allow him to focus on Brian’s lust-filled hazel ones. He shifted his hips, pressing himself impossibly closer to Brian’s warm skin. Brian studied him for a moment, then leaned forward and pressed a light kiss to his lips before reaching for the condom on the nightstand.

“I love you,” Brian whispered a moment later as he leaned forward and captured Justin’s lips in another kiss. The younger man wrapped his legs around Brian’s waist, his hands finding their way to his ribcage, his fingers lightly tracing the bones just under the skin.

***

“Don’t come yet.”

“Soon,” Justin gasped.

“Soon. But not yet.” Brian pushed against him, then leaned down and began kissing his neck, feeling the quick beat of the young man’s pulse. He let his hands drift down to Justin’s thighs, his fingers lightly kneading his muscles.

“That’s really not helping.”

“It’s not meant to,” he replied, as the buzzer to the front door sounded. “Fuck.”

“Maybe they’ll go away.” The buzzer sounded again, as though someone were leaning on it. A couple seconds later Finlay’s faint cries sounded over the monitor. “Or maybe they’ll keep buzzing, preventing us from finishing fuck number five of the evening and waking our son up.”

“Technically it’s morning.” Brian gently pulled away from Justin, the younger man’s legs dropping onto the mattress once again. He sighed as he removed the condom, dropped it into the trash, and made his way toward the intercom. He rested his head against the cool brick above the intercom and pressed the button. “It’s six-thirty in the fucking morning on New Year’s Day.”

“Brian? It’s Jennifer. I’ve got Molly with me.”


	2. Chapter Two

Chapter Two

Brian released the button. “Fuck.” He looked toward the entrance to the bedroom, his eyes focusing on Justin as the younger man made his way down the stairs dressed in baggy pale blue basketball shorts and a tight white tee shirt bearing a small black and white picture of Andy Warhol. “Did your mother happen to call earlier and tell you she was coming to visit?”

“What? No. Why? Is she here? What the fuck is she doing here?” He crossed his arms over his chest and stared as his husband, confusion painted across his pale features.

“Fuck if I know. But she and Molly can’t stand out in the cold all morning.” He pressed the button again. “Come on up. You remember where the door is.” Sighing, he turned and made his way back to the bedroom, quickly donning the jeans he had discarded the previous night. “Nothing like a visit from the in-laws to kill the mood.”

“They’re not staying.”

“Damn right they’re not. We’ve got four days left before I have to go back to work, and I intend for the majority of that time to be spent with one of us either on our back or with our ass in the air. A visit from your mother would definitely put a halt to those plans.” He sighed again, then stepped forward and wrapped his arms around his husband. “We’ll talk to them, figure out why they’re here, and see what we can do to get them out so we can get back to our honeymoon, okay?” He pressed a light kiss to the blond’s forehead. “Now let’s go before your mother starts banging on the door.”

***

Brian studied his mother-in-law as she stood in the hallway with her daughter, various high-end suitcases piled on the floor around them. She looked tired, much as she had on their second meeting at Justin’s apartment following his attack. Her normally perfect hair had a few pieces drifting astray and the scarf around her neck was close to falling off.

Molly appeared equally tired, though slightly more put-together than her mother. She was dressed in a pair of flared jeans, black boots, and a knee-length gray wool pea coat. A floppy black hat rested atop her head.

“Hey, Brian.” The young girl looked at him somewhat shyly and smiled.

“Molly.”

“Mom, what are you doing here?” Justin asked, returning from the kitchen and appearing at his husband’s side. “What’s going on?”

“Can we come in? I promise I’ll explain everything.” She looked at the two men pleadingly, a small smile gracing her lips a moment later when they began grabbing the luggage and carrying it into the house. “Your father and I finalized our divorce two weeks ago,” she continued quietly, once everyone had seated themselves in the living room. “I didn’t know where else to go.”

“So you came here? Without calling first?” Justin demanded, pressing his shoulder against Brian’s. The older man reached over and, with his left hand, began gently massaging the tenseness out of the blond’s neck.

“Well, it seemed logical to come here. And I know I should have called but with everything that’s been going on . . . I guess I was just distracted. I’m sorry if we woke you.”

“Oh, he was already up,” Brian replied straight-faced until Justin shoved his elbow into his ribs. “Ow.”

“The coffee should be done.” Justin looked at his husband pointedly.

“Yes, dear,” he replied in a high-pitched mocking tone. He stood, narrowly missing another elbow to the ribs, and turned to Molly. “Come on, we’ll find you something to snack on.”

Justin watched, a slight smile on his face, as his husband wrapped one slender arm around Molly’s shoulders and led her toward the kitchen. Then he scrubbed his hands over his face once again, trying to wipe away the tiredness that just didn’t seem to want to go away.

“You really should have called. I know you’re going through a tough time right now. I completely get that. But you can’t just drop by with all of your luggage at six-thirty in the morning and expect us to be thrilled that you’re here.”

“I wasn’t expecting that. But I didn’t expect you’d turn us away, either.”

“Brian and I are willing to put you and Molly up in a hotel room, but you just can’t stay here right now.”

“But you have plenty of space.” She twisted her fingers together. “I guess I just thought . . .”

“It’s not about the space. I know there’s more than enough, that’s one of the reasons we designed the layout the way we did.” He gazed down at his hands, taking in the ring that adorned his left hand. “The thing is . . . Brian and I got married last week. And for the next four days, I would like to be alone with my husband.” He looked up, noting the shock evident on her delicate features. Surely this was the last thing she’d expected him to say and, mostly likely, she was having a hard time wrapping her mind around the concept of two men getting married, but if she wanted to be in his life at all she’d have to accept the reality that he and Brian were, in fact, married.

“I’m afraid I don’t understand.” Her voice was quiet, little more than a whisper, and her words were spoken in a rather shaky manner.

“There’s not much to understand. We bought the rings, got in touch with a priest, and got married, all on the same day.”

“A priest? You and Brian were . . . married . . . by a Catholic priest?”

“Yes. Brian’s known him for a while. He doesn’t have issues with gay people wanting to get married. So he performed the ceremony in his office at the church.”

“Justin! Do you know how much trouble he could get into for doing that? He could be excommunicated!” Jennifer stood and began pacing around her son’s living room.

“Yeah, I know. But he wanted to do it. It’s something he feels strongly about, and I honestly doubt if Brian and I are the first gay couple whose wedding he’s officiated.” He studied his ring again before returning his gaze to his mother. “Look, I know how you feel about this. I know you don’t believe gay people should be allowed to get married, and I know you probably won’t regard my marriage to Brian as real . . . but to us it is.”

“I just . . . if it’s not legal, then what’s the point?” she asked, as Brian stepped into the living room carrying three coffee cups. He handed one to Jennifer, then the other to his husband, and returned to his seat at the younger man’s side.

“It’s too fucking early to discuss the unfairness of current marriage laws—so here’s what we’re going to do. We will get you and Molly a hotel room and call a cab to take you there. I’m going back to work on the fifth. Hopefully by then you’ll have an idea of what it is you want to do now that you’ve left Chicago,” he remarked, as Finlay’s voice called to him via the baby monitor. He groaned and playfully rested his head against Justin’s. “We’re never gonna be able to get some sleep.”

“You know as well as I do that he’ll crash for a couple hours around eleven. We can live on coffee until then.” He reached over and ran his fingers through his husband’s chestnut hair, then placed a soft kiss on his forehead.

“There’s not enough coffee in the world to keep me awake at this point,” Brian muttered, standing and making his way toward the stairs. “Although a screaming child will probably do the trick.”

“Honey, you look really tired.”

“Well, yeah, I haven’t exactly gotten any sleep yet.” He looked at her pointedly, taking note of the deep blush that overcame her pale skin. “But I’m fine. I’ll sleep later.” He pulled open the large drawer of the coffee table and removed the phone book. “First we’ve gotta find a hotel.”

“Mom said we were staying here.”

Justin studied his sister as she stood in the doorway leading from the dining room to the living room. It amazed him how, the last time he had seen her, she seemed so grown up, but this morning she seemed so young. Maybe the lack of sleep was getting to him. He gestured to her, then patted the seat beside him.

“Molly, you know I love you, and any other time I would love to have you staying here, getting to know your nephews. Not just Finlay, but Gus, too, because he’s also your nephew. But this just isn’t a good time.”

“Why not? And how can Gus be my nephew, too, when he’s Brian’s baby?”

“Because Brian and I got married a few days ago. We’d like to spend some time together before he has to go back to work. And since he and I are married, then Gus automatically becomes your nephew.”

“Can I see your ring? You have a ring, right? Cause you can’t get married and not have a ring.”

“Of course I have a ring.” He held out his hand, letting her examine its smooth platinum surface. 

“Justin, I really don’t think it’s a good idea to be telling Molly that you’re married,” his mother said quietly.

He glared at her for a moment, then looked up as he heard Brian coming down the stairs with Finlay. The little boy was chattering about something and Brian was nodding in understanding even if, like Justin, he couldn’t exactly understand everything the child had to say.

“Da!” Finlay began bouncing in Brian’s arms the moment he noticed his father sitting on the sofa, his arms and legs pumping excitedly, though it wasn’t long before the bright lights of the Christmas tree caught his attention. “Tee!”

“We need to take that monstrosity down tomorrow.” Brian leaned over and deposited the boy on Justin’s lap, then placed a quick kiss on the other man’s lips. 

“You know you love that tree. You just won’t admit it.”

“Uh huh.”

“Papa!”

“Yes?”

“Pity tee!”

“Yes, I pity the tree,” he replied, grinning at Molly when she started giggling. “You have enough to eat, Molly?”

“Yeah.”

“Speaking of which, I have to feed Finlay.” Justin stood, hitched his son against his side, and looked at his sister. “Wanna help?”

“Sure!” The red-haired girl jumped up and dutifully followed him into the kitchen.

Brian watched him leave, a small smile on his face, then turned to face Jennifer. “I was really hoping you were starting to come around about Justin and me. The last time you were here you seemed to be.”

“I just . . . I know you care about him, and that he cares about you, but I don’t . . .” She shook her head, trying to clear the exhaustion from her features, and stared at the painting on the opposite wall. It was of a young blonde woman holding a baby. “That’s a beautiful piece.”

“Justin did it.” He took note of her obvious surprise before continuing. “It’s of Shannon and Finlay. He painted it right after she died.” He glanced down at his left hand, his eyes drifting over both his bracelet and his ring before he looked back up at Justin’s mother. “We got married because we wanted to. And we really don’t owe anyone any explanations for it—not even you.”

“He’s my son.”

“And he’s my husband.” He ran his fingers through his disheveled hair and groaned. “Look, Justin and I haven’t gotten any sleep at all. We’re really not up to defending our marriage which, by the way, is barely a week old. And we’re most definitely not in the mood for houseguests.” He picked up the phone book that Justin had left on the table. He quickly flipped to the hotel section and scanned the listings. “The Hilton okay with you?”

***

Brian discarded his jeans once again and slid between the cool sheets of his and Justin’s bed. He rolled onto his side and studied the blond as the younger man lay on his back staring at the ceiling. 

“What are you looking for? Cause there are no cracks up there.”

“Thought I saw some cum dried by the light.”

“You’re insane.”

“Exhaustion does that to me.” He looked at Brian and smiled. “I was really hoping we’d be able to fuck during Finlay’s nap.”

“Theoretically, I could get it up. But I think I’d rather sleep.”

“That must be a first for you.” Justin turned his head and grinned at the older man. “But yeah . . . sleep now, fuck later.” He scooted closer to Brian and draped his left arm over the other man’s waist, his head resting against Brian’s shoulder as he closed his eyes and finally drifted into a much-anticipated sleep.

***

Justin sat, his left ankle resting across his knee, his hands in the front pocket of his gray hoodie. He glanced at Dr. Pierson as she gathered her pad of paper and a pen and seated herself across from him. She smiled at him slightly before leaning back.

“So, Justin . . . what would you like to talk about today?”

“I don’t know. Nothing, really.” He gazed out the window for a moment, then returned his blue eyes to the doctor. “My mother and sister showed up at my doorstep uninvited yesterday morning.”

“I take it you didn’t want them there?”

“I don’t get along all that well with my mom. I mean . . . things were starting to get better, but I don’t know . . .” He sighed and stared at the diplomas hanging on the opposite wall. “She was finally starting to warm up to Brian a bit, and now . . . I know she thinks I’m making a huge mistake in having married him, but I love him and I wanted to marry him, and it’s not really any of her business.”

“Okay, hold on a second.” Dr. Pierson set her pad on her lap, and wove her fingers together. “What’s this about you and Brian?”

“We got married shortly before Christmas.” He removed his hands from his pockets and stared at his ring for a moment, his right thumb lightly brushing its surface for a moment. “We know it’s not legal, and that really doesn’t matter to us. It’s about the meaning behind the ceremony, behind our vows. That’s the important part.”

“Can you understand why your mother feels as she does?”

“Not really. I mean, I wouldn’t be thrilled if Finlay got married at eighteen. But if he loved someone enough to believe he could commit to them in that way, then I’d support his decision as much as I possibly could. But the thing is, my mom’s not doing that. She’s viewing me as a typical teenager, and I’m not. I haven’t been for a long time. I don’t have that mindset. I stopped being that the moment I found out I was going to be a father.”

“Does she know that side of you? The part that’s no longer a child?”

“She didn’t, not for quite a while. But she was starting to. Which is why I don’t understand why she’s so against my getting married. I mean, I know she doesn’t believe in gay marriage . . . that’s her hangup, not mine. But she should respect me enough not to belittle my relationship. Especially not in front of my kids and my sister.”

“How old is your sister?”

“Twelve. And I know she’s old enough to form her own opinions and beliefs, but it still bothers me that my mom doesn’t want her to know Brian and I are married. Cause I’m not ashamed of that—I have no reason to be.”

“Do you view yourself as Brian’s equal?”

“Of course.”

“Do you think your mother views you as his equal?”

Justin tilted his head to the side and studied the diplomas for another minute before responding. “No. But I don’t know that she ever will because of the difference in our ages. But at the same time, I don’t know if she considers him her equal. She’s a country club princess to the nth degree and Brian’s just Brian. His dad worked in a steel mill and drank too much and beat him up a lot, and his mother’s totally devoted to the Church. Not that she knows any of that, obviously, but I’m sure she’s realized that Brian doesn’t come from the same social standing, regardless of how successful he is.”

“And social standing’s not important to you?”

“For a while it was. Back when I thought my life would be spent among the movers and shakers of Chicago society. And when I thought I’d be going to Dartmouth. But everything changed when Finlay was conceived. I lost any social standing I might have had the moment I was kicked out of the house.”

“Do you regret that?”

“That my parents kicked me out? Or that I lost my place in Chicago society? If none of that had happened, I wouldn’t be where I am now. Married to Brian, with two sons, a home . . . it’s what I want. Where I always wanted to be, even when I didn’t know it.”

“So . . .” Dr. Pierson leaned back in her chair again. “Perhaps we should discuss ways of dealing with your mother.”

***

Brian nodded in Debbie’s direction as he stepped into the diner, pulling off his black scarf as he made his way to the booth where Ted, Emmett, Mel, and Lindz sat. He slid into the seat beside the two women, then pulled Gus’s stroller closer so he could watch the little boy as he slept.

“So what’re you doing out of your self-imposed exile?” Mel asked with a grin as she stirred her coffee.

“Justin had an appointment, so I decided to stop by and get lunch.”

“Where’s that other gorgeous boy of yours, since two of them have been accounted for?” Emmett asked.

“Daycare. Just for a couple hours. Justin’s read, like, half a million books on child development, and apparently they all say that it’s a good idea to have kids learn to socialize as soon as possible. Something about it developing self-confidence and social skills that are important later in life. So Fin’s stuck at daycare so he can babble with his fellow munchkins.” He reached down and ran a finger over Gus’s smooth cheek. “Speaking of socialization,” he said, turning to the two women, “any chance Gus could spend a weekend with us sometime so he can get to know his brother?”

“Well, we’ll have to discuss it. Figure out a good weekend. I mean, if you’re serious about this, Mel and I could always spend the weekend at a B&B or something.”

“Yeah, we haven’t done that since before Gus was born.” Mel grinned at Lindsay, then turned back to Brian. “We’ll call and let you know when we get things figured out.”

“Sounds good.”

“Hi, Brian,” Deb said quietly as she stopped by the booth, pen and order pad at the ready.

“Deb.”

“Look, I’m really sorry about what happened Christmas Eve.” Her eyes darted around for a moment. “So how is Finlay?”

“He’s fine. And you have nothing to be sorry for. It’s all on Michael this time. And don’t make any excuses for him, because I’m not buying them.” He studied her for a moment. “I’ll have a chicken Caesar salad and a cheeseburger and fries to go.”

“Sure, kiddo.” He studied her for a moment as she wandered off to place his order. He shook his head, then focused his attention on the tabletop. Deb was always apologizing for Michael’s behavior – when she couldn’t blame Brian for it. Never did she make him take responsibility for his own actions. Now, even when Michael was thirty years old, she was trying to rationalize his behavior.

“Still not talking to Michael?” Emmett asked quietly.

“We have nothing to say to each other.”

“He’s your best friend,” Ted saw fit to point out.

“Not anymore. A man’s best friend doesn’t hit his child, for any reason,” he replied, as the bell over the door chimed and Michael and David walked in. Brian met the shorter man’s gaze for a moment, then leaned over and kissed Gus on the forehead before standing. “I’ll talk to you guys later.” Then he made his way over to the counter to retrieve the bag Kiki indicated was his.

He had just rounded the corner, stopping beside his parked Jeep to fish his keys from the pocket of his jeans, when he heard his name. Looking up, he took note of David walking in his direction.

“What do you want, Doc?” He leaned against the Jeep and studied the older man for a moment. Sometimes he wondered why Michael and David were together . . . though usually he came to the conclusion that Michael was searching for a relationship with an older, richer, more controlling man in an unconscious attempt to find a man like he imagined his father had been.

“I want you to fix things with Michael.”

“I don’t think that’s gonna happen this time.”

“After all the shit he’s put up with from you over the past fifteen years, you at least owe him a chance.”

“I don’t owe him anything! Christ!” He combed his fingers through his hair, then stared off into the distance for a moment, allowing himself to calm down a bit before turning his attention to David once again. “You know that he has this fantasy that he and I will end up together, right? He’s not letting go of that. And if you’re going to stand a chance, then he really needs to get over me.”

“And what does this have to do with your not talking to him? Because I know you can’t stand me, and that you don’t want Michael and I to be together.”

“It has nothing to do with you—it’s about Michael not letting go of this dream he’s had for the last fifteen years. He’s trying to hold onto me, and I’m trying to have my own life. And he doesn’t understand that. When he attacked my relationship with Justin, that was one thing, because Justin and I are both adults and we can watch out for ourselves. But I will not put up with him attacking my son.”

“What are you talking about? He would never hurt Gus.”

“No, I really don’t think he would. Because Gus isn’t an extension of the man I’ve committed myself to. But Finlay is.” At David’s confused look, Brian muttered, “Christ! I can’t believe he didn’t tell you. He fucking hit my kid, David! Justin is my husband, and Finlay is our son, and that just pissed Michael off and he took it out on a little boy who’s just barely a year old.”

“Michael wouldn’t--.”

“He did! And everyone saw him do it! So think I’m lying all you want, and then go ask Mel and Lindz and Emmett. Cause they were there. And if I decide to talk to Michael again, it’ll happen on my schedule, not his.” Turning, Brian walked around to the driver’s side of his Jeep and climbed in.

***

When Brian returned home he found Justin, clad only in track pants, lying on the large futon mattresses that now dominated a corner of their master suite, a lit cigarette jutting from between his lips.

“Rough session?” Brian asked, dropping the bag of food on the floor beside him, then shedding his coat, shoes, and socks, and lying down next to the younger man.

“Not really.” He reached over and handed the cigarette to Brian. He took a quick drag, then passed it back. 

“We really should try to stop smoking.”

“Well, I’ve never smoked much, and you smoke a lot less.” He rolled over and hooked his right leg over Brian’s, peered at him a second, and then crushed the cigarette in the ashtray he’d placed on the floor. “I need to go talk to my mother again.”

“Why?”

“To try to make her see that I’m an adult, capable of forming adult relationships and making my own decisions.”

“So when will you be doing this?” Brian reached over and brushed the soft blond strands from Justin’s forehead so he could gaze unobstructed into the younger man’s sparkling blue eyes.

“Not sure yet. I mean, I guess I could do it tonight. Pick up Finlay and head over to the hotel to talk to her. Get it out of the way.” He studied Brian for a moment, his eyes narrowing. “What’s wrong?”

“Stopped at the diner. Ran into David.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah. But I also saw Mel and Lindz and I think they’re gonna let us have Gus for a whole weekend. I think they’re in the mood for a weekend getaway munchfest or whateverthefuck.”

“Gross.”

“Exactly.”

“Please get that image out of my mind.”

“Thought you were hungry?” Brian asked with a grin, his hand drifting from the small of Justin’s back and making its way under the waistband of his track pants.

“Very hungry. It’s been almost three hours since we’ve fucked.” He pulled Brian’s tee shirt over his head and dropped it on the floor, then rolled the older man onto his back, letting his lips trace a path over his husband’s ribcage.

***

Brian stood beside the bed and looked down at his husband. The other man was still sleeping peacefully, his legs tangled in the duvet, his pale chest sharply in contrast to the darkness of the bedclothes. Leaning over, he pressed a light kiss to the younger man’s forehead.

“Mm, Bri?”

“Hey.” He smiled slightly, then sat down. “I didn’t want to wake you.”

“It’s okay.” He raised his hands above his head and stretched for a moment before forcing himself into a seated position, his hands immediately finding Brian’s waist as he leaned against the taller man. “Do you have to go now?”

“Yeah. I have a meeting with Ryder at eight.” He let his head drop to the curve between Justin’s neck and shoulder. “Mm, you smell good.”

“I smell like you.”

“Still smell good.” He pressed an open-mouthed kiss just below the younger man’s ear. “Hm, okay. I should go now before I lay you back on the bed and fuck you again. Although,” he began, looking down at the duvet resting across Justin’s lap, then snaking his hand under it and smiling when he reached his goal, “I can spare a few minutes to take care of that for you.”

“Promises promises.”

“And I always keep my promises.” He grinned, then leaned forward and pressed a quick kiss to the younger man’s lips before pushing the duvet out of the way.

***

Brian was already in his office going over his accounts when Cynthia tapped on the open door and stepped inside, then made her way to his desk and carefully set down and extra-large non-fat latte.

“Thanks, Cyn. So what’s on the agenda for today?”

“Not a whole lot. Ryder wants to see you in his office at eight. Then you just need to look in on some of your accounts, then talk to Max Fisher in Research about some of the companies he thinks are prime for the picking . . . he’s expecting you at ten o’clock.”

“Okay.”

“Need anything, boss?”

“Um, yeah.” He closed the folder he had been looking through, then focused his attention on his assistant. “I need you to contact HR, get all the necessary paperwork so I can make some revisions to my insurance.”

“Sure.” She made a note of it, then sat down in the chair across from his desk. “So . . . if you don’t mind my asking . . . why the need for extra days off?”

“Hm . . . why not?”

“Cause Marty was pissed. He practically went on a rampage after he got off the phone with you.”

“Sucks to be him, then,” Brian replied, reaching for the latte. “He’s been running this company for years. All I asked for were three additional days. There’s no reason he couldn’t handle that. Besides, it’s not like I indiscriminately take time off.”

“Well, I’m not one to pry . . .”

“Since when? You’ve been prying since the moment I hired you.” He smiled, then stood and removed his suit jacket.

“What’s that?” the blonde woman asked as he hung the jacket in the small closet near his office door. “It looks suspiciously like a ring.”

“It is.”

“And it’s on your left hand.”

“Yes,” he replied, offering her a slight tongue-in-cheek grin.

“No fucking way!” She started at him for a moment. “Jesus Christ, Brian! You never cease to amaze me.”

“Yeah, yeah. I want those papers from HR by lunch.”

“Sure.” She stood and made her way to the open door of his office, then turned and watched as he returned to his desk. “So does this mean you’re not sending out a memo detailing your newly married status?”

“It’s no one’s business, so no. Though I’m sure it’ll get around the office quickly enough.”

“Is this your way of telling me to keep my mouth shut?”

“Take it as you will.”

“Okay, I’ll shut up about it now. It’s just . . . I’m glad to see you happy.”

“Yeah, yeah. But I’m still a cold, heartless asshole when it comes to business . . . just remember that,” he remarked, as his cell phone rang. He glanced at the display, then sighed. “Close the door on your way out.” He waited a moment until his assistant had left his office before flipping open his phone.

“Yes?” he asked with a slight smile.

“Finlay missed you.”

“Uh huh. I’ve been gone an hour. Between getting him fed, bathed, and dressed, I doubt he’s had time.” He leaned back in his chair and studied the platinum band encircling his left ring finger. “So what are your plans for today?”

“Not sure yet. I’ll probably stop by the bookstore, see if they’re hiring. I need something to do with my days.”

“Well, I was thinking . . . if you’re feeling up to it . . . my office is looking a bit sparse.”

“That’s an understatement.”

“And it could use some new artwork.”

“Seriously?”

“Yeah. Why not? Just a couple pieces. Do whatever you want. That is . . . if you want to.”

“Of course I want to.”

Brian grinned and leaned forward, his elbows coming into contact with the top of his desk as he heard the smile in the younger man’s voice. He glanced at the clock on his computer, then sighed. “My meeting with Marty is in ten minutes. I’m sure he’s getting ready to chew me a new asshole.”

“Hm, that’s my job.”

“Fuck! You know, you’re not helping any, Blondie. I’m about two seconds away from coming home and fucking you on those futon mattresses.”

“Well, they do say that when you get married your days become rather repetitive.”

Brian listened as Justin tickled Finlay and the little boy burst out giggling. He sighed again and wished he was home, a thought that amazed him, given his propensity for obsessively working. Smiling, he leaned back again as he listened to his son’s laughter.

***

Marty Ryder paced around his office, his fingertips touching, as Brian sat in the chair opposite his desk and stared at the early-morning Pittsburgh skyline. The darkness of the winter morning had finally given way to bright sunlight that threatened to stream into the office at any moment.

“Look, Brian, I know you’re a partner in this agency now, and I can’t tell you what to do, but it doesn’t do much for morale when you take an extended holiday vacation. I’m sure our other employees would have liked to stay home a bit longer, but as they were required to return on the third, they didn’t have that option.”

“It was just three days, Marty. If I’d had my way I wouldn’t have come back for another month. And, for the record, I’m taking a month off this summer.”

“Brian, come on, be reasonable. You can’t just take a month off.”

“When have you ever known me to use all of my vacation time? I think, as a partner, I’m entitled to a fucking vacation.”

“I never said you weren’t.”

“Then lay off a bit. If I want to take a few days to spend with my family, then I’m going to do it. And if I want to take a month off to have an actual honeymoon, then I’m going to do that, too. I mean, Christ, Marty, what’s the point of all this is I can’t enjoy the results of all the time I put in?”

“What the hell are you talking about?” Marty asked, his eyes drifting to Brian’s left hand as he noticed the ring the other man now wore for the first time since he’d entered his office. “I thought you were . . . you’ve always said--.”

“Yes, Marty, I’m still a fag. But now I’m a married fag, like it or not. And I’ll be adding my husband and our son to my insurance, as well as taking that month off this summer. Now, can we move on from my personal life and discuss business? That _is_ why you wanted to see me, isn’t it?” Brian stared at his business partner for a moment until the man returned to his desk, cleared his throat, and began discussing their latest account.

***

As Brian walked back down the hall to his office, he momentarily closed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose. A headache was already forming behind his eyes, and it wasn’t even ten yet. He let out a loud sigh and stepped into Cynthia’s portion of their office suite.

“Need some Excedrin?” she asked quietly, looking up from her computer. Without waiting for his answer she handed him the valued green bottle and a bottle of water.

“Thanks.”

“Not a problem. Oh, here are the papers you requested from HR.” She handed him the stack of papers as he returned both bottles to her desk. “And Michael is waiting for you in your office.”

“Fuck.” He pinched the bridge of his nose again. “Okay. Hold all my calls until I’m done. Hopefully this won’t take long.” He sighed, then opened his office door and stepped inside. “Michael.”

“What the fuck did you tell David?” the shorter man demanded, jumping up, as Brian closed the door.

“Good to see you, too, Michael.” Brian shut the door, then walked over to his desk and sat down, setting the stack of papers on the desk’s polished surface.

“David broke up with me.”

“Well, I’d be lying if I said I didn’t see that coming. But why are you here, in my office, telling me about it, when we have nothing to say to each other?”

“I’ve apologized, Brian. God, you have no idea how sorry I am about what happened. But that’s no excuse for ruining my relationship with David,” Michael replied, his lower lip trembling slightly and his eyes beginning to water.

“Look, I didn’t tell David to break up with you. I may not have understood why the two of you ever got together, but I didn’t contribute to him ending the relationship. He did that on his own. And I’m not going to take a single bit of the blame for it.”

“You’re the one who told him what happened!”

“He asked why we weren’t talking, and I told him. I didn’t tell him to break up with you. I didn’t tell him you were a horrible person. I told him I was pissed at you and that I didn’t want to talk to you after what you did. That’s all.”

“He said he couldn’t be with someone who would hit a child. That he didn’t think I was capable of doing something like that, but that if I was he couldn’t be with me,” Michael said quietly.

“I never thought you were, either, Michael, but I guess I was wrong.”

“How many times do I need to fucking apologize? Christ! David doesn’t want anything to do with me, my mom’s barely talking to me, Vic won’t talk to me, Mel and Lindsay won’t let me come over . . .”

“How are we to know you won’t do the same thing to Gus?”

“He’s your son, Brian, I’d never hurt your son.”

“Finlay’s my son, too. I’ve told you that.”

“But not really.”

“Yes he is. It’s not my fault if you can’t understand that.” He studied the other man for a moment. “Look, I’m sorry it didn’t work out with David. Because even though I’m still pissed at you, I want you to be happy.”

“Then leave Justin. Things can go back to the way they were before he showed up,” the shorter man pleaded. “We were both happy then.”

“I was never happy.” He sighed, then looked out the window for a moment. “For the first time in my life I have my own family, Michael, a partner and two children, and I’m not giving any of them up, not even for you.”

***

Justin sat on the sofa in the living room of the suite his mother was staying in. His sister was in the bedroom with Finlay, the door open just enough that he could see his son who, tired from all the early-morning activity, was asleep on the bed. Molly lay next to him, watching him sleep.

“She’s fascinated by him.”

“Yeah,” Justin replied, turning to his mother. He sighed, then looked out at the late-afternoon sky. 

“So what did you want to talk to me about?”

“I just . . . I need you to see who I am.” He turned his gaze away from the window and instead focused on his mother. “I think you’re still seeing me as the sixteen year old kid I was when Dad kicked me out. But that’s not who I am.” He ran his thumb lightly over his ring, a gesture that was not missed by his mother. “If we’re ever going to get along, you have to realize that.”

“I _do,_ Justin.”

“No you don’t. Because you don’t know me anymore. When you stayed at my home those few days you saw glimpses of who I am, of what my life is like, but you don’t really know.” He stood and made his way over to the window. “It really hurt me when you let Dad kick me out. I thought you’d stand by my decisions regarding Shannon and our baby. I guess I thought you’d understand.”

“I did. I just--.”

“And then when Shannon died . . . I didn’t have anyone. I wanted you to be there. I wanted you to see your grandson and love him as much as I did, and convince me that everything would be okay, that I could take care of my son and that you’d be there to support me. But instead I ended up going to my wife’s funeral alone, with her family hating me, believing that she would have survived the accident if she hadn’t been pregnant. And maybe she would have. I don’t know. The doctors could have focused on her rather than on our baby.

“After awhile I just couldn’t stay with her parents. They hated me so much, wouldn’t so much as look at Finlay . . . so I went to stay with Gran. And I loved it there. You know I’ve always loved it there. But it was just . . . too close to Chicago. Too close to everyone who’d ever failed to be there for me. So I had to leave. Gran didn’t want me to go, but she understood my reasons. So one day I just packed up and drove until I ended up in Pittsburgh.”

“But, Justin . . . I called and asked you to come home.”

“You never asked me to move home. You said that you thought you and Dad would do a better job of raising Finlay than I would.” He turned and looked at her, hurt and anger etched across his pale features. “You have no idea how that hurt.”

“You were just a child--.”

“No I wasn’t. I stopped being a child. I became an adult practically in the blink of an eye because I had to. Because I didn’t have anyone else. Because I had to be the kind of father my son deserved. And I couldn’t do that if I continued to act like a kid, think like a kid . . . everything changed the minute Finlay came into the picture. I started planning ahead, setting up his college fund, reading up on development . . . I did everything I could to educate myself on how to care for him because aside from Gran, no one showed me anything. I couldn’t turn to you and ask what to do when he got fever or when he had an earache. I didn’t have anyone.

“And then I met Brian. And he didn’t treat me like a kid. Everyone has always treated me like a kid, just because I look so young. But he never did. He treated me like an equal. And that was before he even knew about Finlay. Sure, we fucked, but we were friends, too. We hung out at the loft, he asked my opinion on campaigns he was working on, he advised me on which colleges would look the best to employers. And I just . . . fell in love with him.” He smiled slightly and shoved his hands into his pockets.

“Justin. I know you care about Brian. And he cares about you--.”

“It goes beyond that. We love each other.”

“But I just wonder . . . he’s so much older than you . . . he’s lived so much more. And you’re from different backgrounds.”

“It doesn’t matter.”

“I just think . . . that you’re like a prize for him.”

“Stop comparing me and Brian to Dad and his latest skank.” He crossed his arms over his chest and glared at her. “Your recent experiences are tainting how you see my relationship with Brian. He’s my husband. My son’s other father. He’s the person I’ve chosen to spend the rest of my life with. _I_ am the man he’s chosen as his husband, as his son’s other father. He would never have put this ring on my finger and said the vows he did if he didn’t mean them.” He returned to the couch and sat down. “I know you don’t think my marriage is real, but it is to me and Brian and our friends. And it will be to our children.”

“I just . . . I don’t know, Justin. You’re just . . . too young to be in such a committed relationship. You’ll get older and change and possibly decide you don’t want to be with Brian anymore. Then where will you be?”

“I’ll never _not_ want to be with Brian.”

“I know you think that now--.”

“You’d think so, too, if you knew us. You knew the me I wanted you to know when I was younger. You don’t know the me that’s a gay man, a father, a husband, and an equal partner. You don’t know any of that. I’d like you to, but it’s not going to happen if you don’t let it.”

Jennifer stood and made her way over to the window, gazing down at the city below. “I saw you once. I didn’t mean to. I just . . . wanted to watch Finlay sleep. And you and Brian were on the sofa. . . .” She pushed a strand of hair behind her ear, but didn’t turn around. “I know sex is an important part of a relationship, and you and Brian seem . . . well-matched . . . but it’s not everything. And I think . . . maybe you’re confusing sex with love.”

“That was the night I asked him if he wanted to adopt Finlay.” He smiled slightly at the memory. “That was a total expression of love on both our parts.” Standing, he walked over to the window to stand beside his mother. “All I’m asking is that you stop thinking of me as just being your son. Think of me on adult terms. As a husband and father. If you do, then maybe we can work things out a little.”

***

Justin held Finlay securely against his hip as he stepped into the bookstore where he had worked during his first few months as a resident of Pittsburgh. He loved the feel of the store, how in many ways it resembled an old-fashioned library with its large wooden bookcases, rolling ladders, and extravagant furnishings.

He smiled and gazed around for a moment, taking in his surroundings and looking for a recognizable face. Finding none, he carried his son toward the children’s section at the back of the store. The children’s section had always been his favorite . . . time and again he’d go there on his breaks. He was determined that his children would spend infinitely more time reading and developing their talents than they would lounging in front of the television and, as such, intended to get an early start by reading to them from a young age. Proof of that could already be found in Finlay’s extensive collection of books.

Justin gently set Finlay on the plush carpet in the children’s section, then set about removing his coat. He laid the coat over the small table, then sat down in front of a bookcase and set Finlay on his lap.

“Okay, Fin, I need your help. I know you have a ton of books at home, but we need some for Gus for when he visits. And I’m sure he’d like it if you picked one out.” He slid a thin book from the shelf, then held it up for his son to see.

“Bu!” Finlay pointed at the book, then began giggling and bouncing in Justin’s lap. “Pity!”

“Yes, it’s a pretty book. And it’s about a puppy. Do you wanna get this for Gus?” Justin smiled as Finlay giggled some more and clapped his hands as his small blue eyes focused on the puppy on the cover. “Oh, you’re _so_ gonna be begging me for a dog when you get older. Fortunately, your other dad can deal with that one.” He set the book on the table beside the little boy’s coat, then supported Finlay as he stood and turned so that he could look over Justin’s shoulder.

“Oh, he’s so adorable!” Justin heard a few moments later as he looked through another book.

“Thanks.” He looked up and found Tanya, one of his former co-workers, smiling at Finlay. “Hey! Why don’t you join us? That is, if Robert won’t mind.”

“I was about to go on break anyway,” she replied, sinking to the carpeted floor beside him. “So who’s this little guy?”

“This is my son, Finlay.” He noted her surprise as he gently turned Finlay around and sat him on his lap once again. “Fin, say hi to Tanya.”

“Hi,” Finlay said quietly, then turned his head until his face was buried against Justin’s shoulder.

Justin chuckled and began rubbing soothing circles on the child’s back as he returned his gaze to Tanya. “So how’s everything been?”

“I should be asking you that. God, I never realized you had a kid.”

“Robert’s the only one who knew. I had to call in once when Fin had an ear infection. Actually, that was during those few days that you covered for me.” He brushed Finlay’s wispy blond hair away from his forehead, then reached into the diaper bag at his side and pulled out a bottle of juice.

“Well, you always have seemed slightly mysterious.”

“I never intended to come off that way. It was just easier not explaining my past.” He sighed, then studied Finlay again for a moment. “People are very rude and judgmental sometimes if you’re a teen parent. And they immediately either think you’re an idiot for getting a girl pregnant or feel sorry for you and your kid as though neither will ever amount to anything. I just didn’t want that. Anyway . . . things are really good right now,” he replied as his cell phone began ringing. He pulled it from the pocket of his cargo pants and glanced at the display. “Sorry, Tanya, I have to take this.” Flipping open the phone, he pressed it to his ear. “Hey Brian.”

“Hey. I don’t have much time . . . have to go ream out someone in the art department. About lunch . . . do you wanna eat here? Cynthia can get us something.”

“Yeah, sure. Think Mary will let me in this time?”

“Call if she doesn’t and I’ll come down.”

“Okay. Oh, Fin wants to say hi.” He pressed the phone to the little boy’s ear. He could hear Brian’s voice through the phone, and grinned when Finlay began giggling and squealed, “Papa!” He pressed a quick kiss to the side of Finlay’s head, then put the phone back to his own ear. “Okay, so lunch . . . what time?”

“Um . . . twelve-thirty okay?”

“Sounds good. Love you.”

“Love you, too. Later.”

“Later.” Justin closed his phone, then slid it back into his pocket and returned his attention to Tanya. “Sorry. Trying to nail down lunch plans.”

“No problem. So who’s Brian?”

“Um . . . he’s my husband, actually.” At her surprised look, he continued. “We got married a couple days before Christmas.”

“He must be a special guy.”

“Yeah. Finlay loves him.” He began lightly rocking the little boy, not at all surprised when his eyes began to flutter shut and his thumb made its way into his mouth. “And he’s just an amazing man. Not to mention he’s totally gorgeous.”

“Hm . . . tell me more.”

“Well, he’s tall, about six-two. Very thin, athletic, with chestnut hair and these amazing hazel eyes that have little flecks of green and gold. He’s just beautiful.”

“Sounds like it.” She smiled, then looked at Finlay as the little boy slept. “After everything that happened with Ethan you deserve to be happy.”

“Thanks. So,” he remarked, “I actually stopped by to see about a job. I miss this place. It’s just so calming. And the company’s not bad, either.” He smiled, then lightly bumped her shoulder with his own, mindful not to wake his son.

***

Justin groaned inwardly as he approached the reception desk in Brian’s office building. He unzipped his form-fitting green coat and stepped in front of Mary.

“Justin Taylor to see Brian Kinney.”

“Oh, it’s you.” She frowned slightly. “For a friend, you spend a lot of time here.”

“Brian and Cynthia have both told you repeatedly that I’m allowed up to see him.” He shoved his hands in the pockets of his cargo pants and stared at the woman, his displeasure with the situation written across his face. “I really don’t like how we play out this same scene every single time I come here.”

“Well, you see, I’m the one sitting behind the desk, determining who does and who does not get to go upstairs.” She raised her hand slightly and gestured to the security guard by the door. “Joe, please escort Mr. Taylor out of the building.”

“Sure thing, Ms. Edwards.” The middle-aged man turned to Justin and gripped his upper arm, dragging him out of the building and onto the street, jarring the younger man’s arm enough that a jolt of pain shot through his hand.

“Fuck! Get your fucking hands off me!” He stepped back and glared at the security guard. “You’ll be fucking lucky if you don’t get fired for that!”

“Tell it to someone who cares, kid. I don’t want to see you in this building again. Come back and I’ll call the cops. Now move on.” The man glared at him for a moment before turning and stepping back into the building.

“For fuck’s sake,” Justin muttered, turning and leaning against the building, breathing deeply for a moment until he got his heartbeat under control. Then he retrieved his cell phone and dialed Brian’s direct line.

“Hello?”

“Hey, it’s me.”

“Hi. Where are you?”

“Outside. Mary had the security guard throw me out. He said he’d call the cops if I came back in.”

“Jesus Christ! I’ll be right down.”

***

Brian stepped off the elevator in the lobby, silently fuming, and made his way out the front door. His eyes immediately found Justin leaning against the outer wall of the building, a cigarette between his lips, his free hand stuffed in the pocket of his coat.

“You okay?” he asked quietly, standing in front of the shorter man and gently pressing his forehead against Justin’s, his hands finding a resting place on the younger man’s hips.

“Just a little shook up, I guess. I don’t know why.”

“Residual effects of the bashing. Dr. Rashid told us about that at your last appointment. And I’m sure Dr. Pierson’s mentioned it once or twice.”

“Yeah. Fucking security guard grabbed my right arm and dragged me out the door. Pain’s starting to go away, though.” He took another drag from the cigarette, then dropped it to the pavement and crushed it under his boot. “Sorry I had to call you. Maybe I should just stop coming by.”

“I asked you to come. And you know both Cynthia and I have told Mary that you’re allowed upstairs. It’s her fucking insubordination and rudeness that’s just fucked her out of a job.” He let his fingers sift through the younger man’s hair, then pressed a light kiss to his lips. “Come on.” He placed his hand along the base of Justin’s neck and led the younger man into the building once again. “I just need to speak to Mary and Joe and then we can head upstairs.” He pressed another kiss to Justin’s lips, then turned and walked over to the reception desk.

Reaching over the ledge of the desk, he picked up the phone and dialed his office, then instructed Cynthia to send down Elizabeth, the intern from the accounting department.

“Mr. Kinney?” Mary asked, as Brian set the phone down.

“You’re fired. Pack your things and go home.”

“But . . . Mr. Kinney . . . I don’t . . . why?”

“Insubordination.”

“What?”

“I understand you refused to allow Justin Taylor to come up to my office.”

“Yes, but--.”

“And that you had him physically removed from the premises.” Brian clenched his jaw as he stared at the small woman at the desk. When she didn’t say anything he continued, “I’ve told you before, as has Cynthia, on numerous occasions, that Mr. Taylor is permitted in my office at any time.”

“But--.”

“I’d be unlikely to refuse your spouse entry to the building, and I resent that you’ve not shown mine the same respect. So pack your things.” He crossed his arms over his chest, watching as Mary slowly stood and began gathering the few personal effects she had kept on her desk. Once she was done, he gestured to Joe, then crossed his arms again as he watched the security guard slowly walk over to him. “Joe, please escort Mary out of the building and collect her identification. Then I’d like to have a word with you.”

“Of course, Mr. Kinney,” the older man replied, before turning and leading Mary toward the front door.

Brian sighed, then ran his fingers through his hair. Turning, he noticed Justin pacing back and forth in front of the white leather sofa by the wall, his cell phone pressed to his ear. He heard the elevator ding and looked up to see Elizabeth emerging. Justin noticed her too, giving her a slight smile and a wave as she made her way over to Brian.

“Elizabeth,” Brian said, nodding. “I’ve recently had to let Mary go, so I’d appreciate it if you could work the reception desk for the rest of the day.”

“Um, of course, Mr. Kinney,” she replied quietly.

“All right. If anyone comes in for an appointment, you should be able to locate them in the schedule. Otherwise call the department they ask for to confirm. If you have any questions call my office and Cynthia can help you out. There’s also a list of those who are allowed admittance upstairs without calling ahead or having an appointment. The general rule is that spouses and children of those in management are allowed up, no questions asked. I’d like you to add Justin Taylor to that list. He’s allowed up at any time.”

“Justin, right. Okay.” She grabbed a post-it and quickly jotted down the info. “If you’re not sure who to let up, just call,” he remarked as Joe stepped back into the building. “Thank you for doing this, Elizabeth. I know it doesn’t fall into the normal work for your internship position. Hopefully we can find a replacement for Mary quickly so you can go back to the accounting department.” He turned to Joe, crooked his finger, and led him over to a corner of the lobby.

“I think you know what this is about, right, Joe?” 

“Um . . . the kid over there?”

“I realize he seems like a kid to you, but he’s not. He happens to be my husband. Not that it’s common knowledge yet . . . though I trust you’ll keep that information to yourself for the time being.”

“Yes, sir. I didn’t realize . . . Mary asked me to remove him from the premises and I didn’t think to question her.”

“Understood. And that’s why you still have a job. If this happens again you won’t. Now get back to work.”

“Yes, Mr. Kinney.”

Brian nodded his head rather curtly, then turned and made his way over to Justin right as the younger man closed his phone and slid it into his pocket.

“Everything okay?” the blond asked, tilting his head back and looking up at the older man.

“Yeah. Not that I particularly like firing people, but if they constantly fuck up, I really have no problem with it. What about you?”

“That was my mom on the phone. She wants to talk to me again.” Justin leaned into Brian’s hand slightly as the other man’s hand found its way to the small of his back as they walked to the elevator. “So she invited us to dinner tonight at Bienvenue.”

“What’d you tell her?”

“That I’d talk to you about it and get back to her.” As soon as the doors closed and they were alone in the elevator, Justin slipped his arms around Brian’s waist and backed him up against the wall, his lips finding the other man’s in a searing kiss. “Mm, been wanting to do that since you walked out the door this morning.”

“Yeah. It’s a good thing I’m not too busy at the moment, because I haven’t been able to concentrate on anything all day.” He grinned slightly. “I’m glad the guys can’t hear me, they’d say I’ve turned into a lesbian.”

“I’d never let a lesbian fuck me. Or fuck a lesbian. Somehow I just don’t think it would work out,” Justin replied as the elevator stopped on the executive floor. “So how many people have you told about us?”

“Hm . . . Cynthia and Marty. And Joe, just so he knows that you’re not to be thrown out again,” Brian replied, weaving his fingers through Justin’s and leading the younger man out of the elevator.

“I was sort of wondering how you’d handle this whole thing with your employees. I mean, it’s bound to put you in an awkward position,” Justin said quietly.

“Not really. The thing is, they answer to me, I don’t answer to them. And if they want to keep their jobs they’ll keep their criticism to a minimum. Though I’ll be the first to admit that I’ve never really mixed my business and personal lives.”

“Really? Never would’ve guessed,” Justin remarked, grinning, as Brian led him into his office. “Hi, Cynthia.”

“Justin. Congrats.”

“Thanks.”

“Brian, I left lunch on your desk.”

“Thanks. Cyn, hold all my calls and if Marty asks, I’m at lunch until two.”

“Sure thing, boss,” she replied as Justin wandered into Brian’s office and began investigating the contents of the paper bags on Brian’s desk. He had managed to get two cartons open when Brian shut the door and turned the deadbolt.

“So I take it lunch isn’t all you have in mind?” Justin smirked, then opened another carton. “Hm . . . sweet and sour chicken . . . this has possibilities.”

“Are you suggesting office sex?”

“Um . . . of course.” Justin grinned, then removed his coat, dropping it on one of the leather chairs across from Brian’s desk. Turning, he walked over to the large corner windows and closed the blinds. By the time he returned his gaze to Brian, the other man had shed his suit jacket and tie, piling them on top of Justin’s jacket.

***

Justin stretched out on the leather sofa in Brian’s office, his smile curling his lips upward as Brian joined him and began trailing kisses down his chest. Of all the simple pleasures in life, lying naked on a leather sofa while making love had to be one of the best. He wrapped his legs around Brian’s waist, pinning the taller man against him and, weaving his fingers through his chestnut hair, pulled Brian up for another kiss.

“Fuck me,” he whispered as his lips left Brian’s. He lightly bit Brian’s shoulder, then gently kissed the spot, his tongue sweeping over bronzed, salty skin.

Brian buried his face in the curve of his husband’s neck, gently sucking on the skin just below his collar bone. Once done, he moved back to Justin’s lips, giving him a quick kiss before reaching for the condom and lube he had placed on the coffee table a short time earlier.

“Gotta be quiet, though . . . Cyn’s just outside the door.”

“I doubt she’d mind all that much,” Justin remarked as Brian leaned back just enough to put on the condom. He let his eyes drift over the older man’s flat, but muscular, stomach, and reached up, letting his fingertips drift over Brian’s ribs, then wrapped his legs more tightly around Brian’s waist.

He arched his back as Brian pushed into him, his skin peeling itself from the sofa as he did so and he was reminded once again of the joys of fucking on leather.

***

“What are you doing?” Brian asked from where he lay on the couch. He turned his head slightly, his eyes drifting over Justin’s naked form as the younger man began once again searching through the contents of the bags on his desk.

“I was hungry when I got here, and I’m starving now. And I definitely need to eat something before picking our son up from daycare. Oh, hey, sweet and sour chicken. I’m so loving Cynthia right now.”

“You won’t love her when you put on ten pounds from all that shit.”

“Well, I’ll love you when you help me work it off later tonight.” The younger man smiled, then returned to Brian, straddling the other man’s hips on the narrow couch, the chicken in one hand and the sauce in the other. “Here, hold onto this.” He handed Brian the chicken.

“I can’t believe you’re gonna eat this shit.” Brian stared disdainfully at the contents of the carton. “This stuff is coated in grease. I can see the grease. And it’s deep-fried, for fuck’s sake.”

“Stop complaining and enjoy.” Justin grinned, then retrieved a piece of chicken, dipping it the pinkish-red sauce, a little of the sauce dripping onto Brian’s chest as he bit into it. “Oops.” He finished chewing, then leaned down, letting his tongue drift over the sauce, slowly licking it from the older man’s skin, and marveling at the way Brian’s breathing hitched as he did so. When he finished, he leaned forward, his lips finding Brian’s, allowing the other man a taste of the sweet and sour sauce.

“You should stop by for lunch more often.”

“But then you’d never get anything done.” Justin pressed another kiss to his jaw, then resumed alternately eating and dripping sauce on the man beneath him.

***

Justin was sitting on the living room floor playing with Finlay when Brian stepped through the door. The moment the child saw him he began giggling and slowly rose to his feet, Justin supporting him as he did so.

“Papa!”

“Hey, little man.” Dropping his coat and briefcase onto the sofa, Brian walked over to his husband and son and dropped to his knees, mindless of his Armani suit. He reached for his son, scooping him into his arms and giving him a hug. “I take it you missed me.”

“Love Papa.” Finlay planted a sloppy kiss on Brian’s cheek, then wrapped his short, chubby arms around Brian’s neck and hugged him.

“Love you, too,” Brian replied, kissing Finlay’s soft cheek, then setting him on his lap. He brushed the child’s soft blond hair away from his forehead, then looked at Justin and quirked an eyebrow in his husband’s direction. Justin smiled, then moved over to where Brian sat and leaned forward, pressing a gentle kiss to the other man’s lips.

“Hey.”

“Hey.”

“Daphne will be over in an hour to give Finlay his dinner while we get ready to meet my mom.” Justin smiled as Finlay crawled from Brian’s lap to his. “Molly wanted to stay in the hotel room, so Mom agreed, provided she stays there and doesn’t get in trouble. So it’ll be just the three of us.”

“Maybe it’s good that we’re doing this in a public place. Keep the fighting to a minimum,” Brian replied as he loosened his tie, then stuck his tongue out at Finlay, causing the little boy to burst into laughter once again.

***

Jennifer sat at a table in the back of the restaurant, nervously twisting her pearl necklace around her finger. She hadn’t really expected her dinner invitation to be accepted and was rather surprised when Justin had called her back. Now, as she looked toward the entrance, she let her eyes drift over Justin and Brian as they walked toward her. 

Both were dressed casually, in dark slacks, Brian wearing a long-sleeve gray tee shirt and Justin wearing a light blue sweater. The taller man had his hand resting on the back of Justin’s neck and the younger man leaned into him slightly as they walked.

“Hi, Mom.”

“Mrs. Taylor.”

“Hello,” she replied as they took their seats opposite her at the small table. “And please, call me Jennifer.” She smiled slightly as Brian nodded his acceptance, then shifted her attention to her son. “You look nice.”

“Thanks. Brian convinced me that my cargos would be inappropriate.” He grinned at his husband and lightly bumped his shoulder. “It’s only a matter of time before he forces me to go shopping with him so he can upgrade my wardrobe.”

“Well, you can’t shop at Old Navy forever.”

“Four more years, Brian.” Justin fixed the older man with a small smile. “Just four more, and then I’ll upgrade all of it, okay?”

“Promises, promises.” 

“Um . . . I’ve taken the liberty of ordering a bottle of merlot . . . I hope that’s okay,” Jennifer said quietly, folding her napkin and setting it on her lap. 

“Sounds great, Mom.”

“I didn’t realize you drank.”

“From time to time.” He looked down at his hands, the glint of his ring catching his attention, and he found himself gently twisting it around his finger, before looking back at his mother. “So how’s Molly?”

“Good. I’ve decided to stay in Pittsburgh. Molly seems happy with that decision.” She nodded slightly in Brian’s direction. “And she mentioned that she wanted to get to know you, Finlay, and Gus better.”

“Shit!” Justin raised his hand to his mouth in an effort to stifle his laughter.

“Justin?” His mother looked at him with concern.

“So how does it feel to be the object of lust for a twelve-year-old girl?” He grinned at his husband and wiggled his eyebrows suggestively.

“You know you’re gonna pay for that later, right?” Brian asked, sipping the wine the waiter had poured a moment earlier. “And now you can spend all of dinner pondering exactly what your punishment will be.”

“So why did you invite us here?” Justin asked a few moments later, raising his glass of wine to his lips and taking a sip.

“I guess . . . I just thought we should talk. And I wanted to apologize for showing up on your doorstep the other day.” She let her hands fall to her lap and began idly twisting her napkin around her index finger. “And for not showing you the respect I should have when you told me about your, um, marriage.”

“Do you really mean that?” Justin asked quietly, his hand seeking Brian’s and their fingers twining together. He stared at his mother for a moment, making it clear which statement he was referring to.

“I know you’re a grown man, Justin, and as much as I have trouble thinking of you as such, I know that doesn’t change the fact that you are, and I have to respect your decisions. I just . . . I can’t change how I see things overnight. It’ll take some time, but I’m willing to try.” She crossed her hands in her lap, and met her son’s small smile.


	3. Chapter Three

Justin reached into the back seat of the car and released Finlay from the restraints of his car seat. He carefully set the little boy on the ground, then grabbed his diaper bag and flung it over his shoulder. He quickly shut the car door, then leaned over and picked up his son, fearing that he would take a tumble on the icy sidewalk.

“Code,” Finlay said quietly.

“It’s very cold. We’ll go inside in a minute,” Justin replied as he made his way up to Daphne’s door. He rang the doorbell, then lightly bounced his son in his arms, not at all surprised when the little boy began to giggle.

“Da!”

“That’s me.” He placed a kiss on his son’s cheek as the front door opened. “Hi Mrs. Chanders.”

“Justin, hello. Come on in.”

“Thanks.” He stepped inside, offering a small smile to the older woman as he did so.

“Daphne’s upstairs, she’ll be down in a few minutes.”

“Okay.” He nodded, then reached up and pulled Finlay’s hat off, quickly shoving it into one of the many pockets on the diaper bag. “Thank you so much for letting Finlay stay here for the night. I hope this doesn’t disrupt any of your plans.”

“Not at all,” she replied with a small smile. “I take it you have plans of your own, then?”

“Just sort of playing it by ear. Brian’s not big on holidays, so I don’t think he’d like to do a whole lot, but I think he’d be okay with having a night to ourselves.”

“Where Papa?” Finlay asked suddenly, gaining his father’s attention.

“At work. And you’re going to spend the night with Daphne. How’s that sound?”

“Neenee?”

“Uh huh.”

“Justin, hey!” Daphne exclaimed, bounding down the stairs, her mass of red-tinted curls bouncing behind her.

“Neenee!” Finlay screeched, twisting in Justin’s arms until Justin was forced to set him down. The little boy quickly toddled over to his favorite babysitter, then held out his arms until Daphne picked him up.

“You’re so spoiling him,” Justin remarked, as he carefully removed Finlay’s coat, despite Daphne’s arms being around him. “Isn’t that right, Fin?” He pressed a loud kiss to the boy’s cheek, delighting in the gale of laughter that erupted from the child. “And now I must go. Things to do.”

“You mean people to do.” Daphne grinned, ignoring her mother’s shocked expression, and set Finlay back down, her hands carefully gripping his smaller ones.

“Just one. How quickly you forget that I’m a married man.” He smiled again, and pressed a quick kiss to Daphne’s cheek, then lightly ran his fingers through Finlay’s hair. “See you tomorrow, Fin.” He nodded slightly in Daphne’s mother’s direction. “Mrs. Chanders.” His gaze shifted back to Daphne. “Call if you need anything. Our cells will be off, though, so call the land line.”

“Sure thing. Have a good time.” 

***

 

Justin was reclining on the sofa when Brian reached the top of the stairs leading to the second level of their home. The blue silk of Brian’s robe contrasted sharply with his pale skin. He had drawn the drapes and lit a couple dozen large white candles, turning the living room from a cozy place for family gatherings into a sensual retreat. He knew the instant Brian spotted him as he heard a sharp intake of breath, then the dull clatter of the man setting down his briefcase.

“What are you doing?” The older man’s voice was strained, his eyes glassy as Justin allowed his gaze to sweep over his husband.

“You know, if I could, I’d lay around the house in your robe all the time.”

“Yeah? Why’s that?”

“Cause it comes off faster than jeans and a tee shirt.”

“Just walk around naked, then. It’s not like I’d object.” Brian grinned slightly as he slipped out of his jacket and deftly tossed it onto a nearby chair. His tie quickly followed suit.

“But there are small children in the house. We have to be responsible parents.” Justin grinned, his eyes focused on Brian’s lips. He licked his own lips, allowing his tongue to peek out slightly and linger on his bottom lip for a moment, earning him another quick intake of breath from his husband.

“Speaking of which, where’s Fin?”

“Daphne’s watching him for the night.”

“Really?” Brian replied, kneeling beside the sofa and leaning forward slightly as Justin began unbuttoning his shirt. “How’d you manage that?”

“She has no life.”

“Thank God,” Brian replied, his hand snaking up Justin’s thigh and under the robe. He grinned wickedly when Justin shuddered slightly, then shifted so he could press against Brian’s hand more. Leaning forward once again, Brian captured Justin’s lips with his own as his hand roamed higher.

***

Brian let his fingers drift through Justin’s damp hair. He loved playing with Justin’s hair. In the past, regardless of how many lovers he’d had, he’d never felt the urge to do something that was both so mundane and so intimate as playing with their hair. Yet, when it came to his husband’s fine silken strands, he couldn’t help himself.

“Happy Valentine’s Day, Brian.” Justin’s words were whispered, nearly inaudible as he raised his head and pressed a kiss to Brian’s chest, just above his rapidly-beating heart.

“I sort of got you something,” Brian said quietly.

“You got me a present? You didn’t have to do that. I mean, I know you don’t like holidays, especially ones based in commercialism and romance. . . .”

“It’s for both of us.” He reached blindly over the arm of the couch until his fingers came into contact with the handle of his briefcase. Carefully swinging it around, he set it on the floor beside the sofa, opened it, and pulled out an envelope. He gazed at the white paper for a moment, then held it out to Justin. “I just want you to know . . . if it’s not something that you want, then it’s okay. Because it’s a big step. And I understand if you want to wait even longer. Or, hell, never. I don’t care. I just . . . want it to be your decision.” He slipped the envelope into Justin’s right hand, then threaded the fingers of his left hand with Justin’s, feeling their rings clink together slightly. He lifted the younger man’s hand to his lips and pressed a light kiss to the ring. Releasing Justin’s hand a moment later so he could open the envelope, he once again allowed his fingers to roam through Justin’s hair.

“Brian . . .” Justin’s eyes scanned the papers he’d removed from the envelope, then quickly flitted to his husband’s face.

“I just . . . I wanted you to know. We don’t have to do anything with the information,” Brian replied, gazing toward the covered windows. “I don’t want anything to happen to you.”

“You’d never put me in danger, Brian. I know that.” He shook the papers slightly. “This is proof of that.” He smiled, then leaned forward and kissed the other man. “I love you so much.”

“I love you, too.”

“Mutually beneficial gifts are the best kind,” Justin remarked with a grin.

“Of course.” He returned his husband’s smile before becoming serious once again. “But if either of us slips up, fucks someone else, blows someone else, anything, we’ve gotta be honest, okay? We can work through whatever happens, but we’ve gotta be honest. I don’t want anything to happen to you. I want you around for a long time.”

“I’m not going anywhere.” His eyes drifted over the papers again. “Thank you for this.” He grinned, then dropped Brian’s latest test results onto the end table, his lips finding his husband’s as he did so. “ Brian?” Justin sat up, a knee on either side of his husband’s slim waist.

“What?”

“Have you ever done it raw?”

“A couple times. A long time ago, back when I was young and stupid.” The older man sighed heavily. “Sometimes I can’t believe how clueless I was back then. But I was, what, fourteen . . . fifteen . . . you think you’re invincible at that age, you know?”

“What changed?”

“Vic moved back from New York. He’d just found out he was positive. It was the mid-eighties, you know? It wasn’t like it is now . . . everyone thought it was a death sentence. The cocktail didn’t exist back then. People wouldn’t even talk to you, let alone touch you, if they knew you were positive. And Vic . . . he was very open with me and Michael. Moreso with me, I guess, because he knew I could handle it. And he knew I needed to know, that I was putting myself at risk.” He chewed on his bottom lip for a moment, then gazed into the younger man’s clear blue eyes. “I barely remember what it was like.”

“Come on.” Justin climbed off Brian’s lap and held his hand out to him. “I have another surprise.” He led Brian up the stairs to their bedroom, stopping just inside the glass panes that separated the bed from the sitting area, then moved so that he stood slightly behind his husband, his arms lightly encircling his waist and his head resting against his back. He gave Brian a moment to gaze at the bed before speaking. “The red rose petals represent love and respect and the white ones represent innocence and reverence.”

Brian turned slightly, his eyes meeting Justin’s, then pressed a light kiss to his lips. “And what do they mean all mixed together like that?”

“Unity.”

***

Justin reached up, pulling Brian down into a searing kiss. As the kiss ended, Justin lightly licked Brian’s bottom lip, then moved on to his jaw. He let his hands trail down the length of the older man’s body, his short fingernails gently scraping his skin, until he was able to grip Brian’s slender hips. He lifted his legs, locking them at the small of Brian’s back and arched up.

“Are you absolutely sure?”

“Yeah.” He placed his hands on either side of Brian’s face and kissed him once again.

***

Brian carried Finlay against his chest as he and Justin wove their way through the crowded diner a few days later. Once they’d moved beyond their first month of marriage and their self-imposed connubial isolation, they’d decided to make a habit of having breakfast at the diner with their friends at least once a week.

“So how have you guys been?” Emmett asked as Justin slid into the booth beside him while Brian set about removing Finlay’s coat. “Dare I ask about Valentine’s Day? Or will Mr. Grumpy bite my head off?”

“Biting heads is always a bad idea,” Justin replied flippantly, grinning at Emmett.

“Stop calling me that.” Brian glared at Emmett for a moment, then handed Finlay to Justin, and went to the corner to grab a high chair. He returned a moment later and set the chair at the end of the table. “Never in my wildest dreams did I think the diner would ever have high chairs.”

“Welcome to the modern world.”

“Fuck off, Theodore.”

“And to answer your question, Emmett, we had a very nice Valentine’s Day. Daphne watched Fin and we spent the evening at home.” He handed their son back to Brian, watching as the older man carefully secured him in the high chair and tied a bib around his neck, much to the obvious amusement of the other occupants of the diner.

“So what’d you do?”

“Each other.”

“Christ, Brian!”

“Oh, come off it, Theodore.” He slid into the booth next to Justin, forcing Emmett against the wall. “What do most people do on Valentine’s Day? Well, aside from getting drunk and crying about their pathetic lives. I mean, even if you haven’t experienced the flipside of that day’s events, I’m sure you’ve at least heard of it.”

“Be nice.” Justin leaned over and kissed him for a moment as Michael made his way over to the booth and, uninvited, slid into the seat beside Ted. The blond leaned against Brian slightly, and the other man automatically reached up and began massaging the newly formed tightness out of his neck.

“Hey, guys.” Michael glanced at Brian and Justin, taking note of the displeasure written across both their faces. “So what’s going on?”

“I thought you were meeting us for lunch?” Ted asked quietly.

“Yeah, but I was walking by and saw you guys in here and figured I might as well join you for breakfast.” His eyes shifted to Finlay. “He’s getting big.”

“That tends to happen with children,” Justin replied curtly, turning his attention to his son. “Fin? Want some juice?”

“Joose!”

“Apple or orange?”

“App.”

“Deb!” Brian gestured the boisterous woman over to their table.

“So how was your Valentine’s Day?” Justin asked Emmett once their orders had been placed.

“Well, I went to Babylon. Every year they have this ‘Lonely Hearts’ theme—.”

“For the unfuckable, of course,” Brian remarked, reaching into Finlay’s diaper bag and pulling out a small truck for the boy to play with while they waited for their food.

“—and while some of us might find that something to sneer at, I ended up having quite a good time. It’s not every day that you can get fucked and then get a little Valentine with Scooby on it.” Emmett stirred his coffee for a moment, then looked over at Brian. “So did the two of you do anything besides fuck?”

“We ordered Thai food and watched a movie.” Justin leaned against Brian, a small smile playing across his lips as he recalled the day.

“That’s it?”

“No.” Brian accepted the small dish of oatmeal from Debbie, then set it in front of his son and quickly handed him a baby spoon before Finlay had a chance to stick his hands in the cream-colored mush. “Go to town, buddy.” He grinned as he watched the little boy slowly maneuver the oatmeal-laden spoon toward his mouth.

“So what’d you do?” Michael asked quietly, knowing that almost two months later he was still treading dangerous waters with the two men sitting across the table.

“It’s private,” Justin replied, nudging Brian’s shoulder until the older man looked at Finlay, taking note of the bit of oatmeal that the boy had managed to get on his chin.

“Christ! He gets this from you, you know.” Reaching forward, Brian deftly wiped the sticky mess from his son’s chin. “It’s just a matter of time before he starts eating everything in sight.”

“Well, we better make a lot of money, then, because not only is he going to inherit my appetite, you seem determined that he inherit your fashion sense. Can you imagine how much we’ll be shelling out just for food and clothes?”

“Hm . . . maybe we should get him a gym membership, too . . .”

“Fuck you, he’s a year old!”

“Then take him to that Gymboree thing. Cause with your appetite, if he’s not careful he won’t be able to fit into the clothes that his inherited fashion sense will dictate he wear.”

“Sometimes I don’t know why I put up with you,” Justin remarked, grinning, as he shook his head.

“Because my cock is magnificent.”

“Hm . . . yeah, that must be it.”

“Is it possible to have a single meal together without hearing about your dick?” Ted asked.

“Beautiful things should be admired. And discussed,” Brian remarked, his fingers finding their way into Justin’s hair again.

“Half of Pittsburgh’s admired it,” Michael muttered. “And they couldn’t exactly discuss it with their mouths full.”

“Michael Charles Novotny!” Debbie set down the plates she had been carrying, then delivered a resounding smack to the back of her son’s head. “You’re not doing yourself any favors.” She glared at him for a moment, snapped her gum, and then wandered toward the pickup window.

“You know, Michael,” Justin said quietly, calmly cutting into the Belgian waffle covered with whipped cream and strawberries that Debbie had set before him, “I thought by now you’d figure out that these mean-spirited, snide little comments aren’t going to get you the desired results.”

“Da!”

“Yes?” He turned his attention to Finlay, smiling as the small boy held out his spoon. “Are you done?”

“Done!” Finlay’s little blue eyes shifted to Brian. “Papa!”

“Hm?”

“Icky!” He set the spoon down and showed Brian the oatmeal that had somehow managed to get on his hands, despite having used the spoon to eat the majority of his breakfast.

“I agree. Oatmeal is icky.” He leaned forward and pressed a kiss to his son’s forehead, narrowly missing the sticky little hands that reached for his tie.

“I’ll take him to get cleaned up. Wouldn’t want to stain your Armani.” Justin grinned, then climbed out of the booth, removed Finlay from his chair, and carried him toward the rest room. As soon as he was out of sight, Brian turned his attention to Michael. He stared at him for a moment, then scrubbed a hand over his face before focusing on his coffee cup.

“You know, Michael . . . this is precisely why I asked you to lunch and not breakfast,” Ted said quietly. At the other man’s quizzical look he continued. “You can never keep your mouth shut.”

“It’s not like it’s not true.”

“And yet you had to dredge it up,” Emmett pointed out.

“Justin knows about my past, Michael. Nothing you say is going to shock him. But I don’t particularly appreciate you throwing it in his face.” Brian reached into his suit pocket and retrieved his cell phone as it began vibrating. He glanced at the display, then flipped it open. “Hey Lindz.”

“Brian, hi. I don’t have a lot of time, I have to give Gus a bath, but I was wondering if you and Justin could watch Gus for the weekend. Mel’s mother is in the hospital so we need to fly to Miami.”

“Sure, that’s fine. You know we’ve been wanting to spend time with him.” He smiled at Justin as the younger man returned, standing to let him and Finlay into the booth. “When?”

“Would today be okay? Then we could get on the four o’clock flight.”

“Is Gus coming over?” Justin asked quietly, a grin lighting up his face when Brian nodded.

“Yeah, sure,” Brian said into the phone. “We’ll be home, so just bring him by on your way to the airport.”

“Gus is spending the weekend with you?” Michael asked as Brian snapped his phone shut a moment later.

“Mel’s mother’s in the hospital.”

“Are you sure it’s a good idea for him to spend the entire weekend with you? I mean, babies are a lot of work.”

“Yeah, I know, Michael, considering I’ve become a full-time parent to one in recent months.” Brian frowned at his former best friend, then looked over at the small blond boy whose eyes were quickly drifting shut following his breakfast. “Hey, Sonnyboy, come here.” He took the boy from Justin and set him on his lap. “Breakfast is exciting, I know.” He brushed the wispy hair from Finlay’s forehead, watching him intently as his eyes closed and he fell asleep.

***

“Don’t let him eat too much, but make sure that he’s not hungry. And, um, he usually goes to sleep around seven, and he’ll wake up a couple times a night for another feeding and changing. Oh! Test the milk on your wrist after you heat it up to make sure it’s not too hot. There’s an extra blanket in his bag in case he gets cold. And there should be plenty of diapers.”

“And I won’t let him stay out all night fucking around, either,” Brian deadpanned as Justin stood beside him, a small grin on his face and his blue eyes shining with unreleased laughter.

“Lindsay, Gus will be fine.”

“I just . . . I haven’t left him before . . .”

“And I understand that.” Brian lightly rubbed Gus’s back as the baby snoozed against his shoulder. “But we’ll take good care of him. He’ll still be in once piece when you get back.”

“And, Lindsay, I’ve done this before.” Justin smiled again and lightly touched her arm. “Between the two of us, he’ll be happy and healthy when you get back from Miami.”

“Yes. I know, I know.” She sighed, then crossed her arms over her chest before offering them a slight smile. “I’m being unreasonable, aren’t I?”

“Well, I’ll forgive you this time.” Brian grinned, then leaned forward and kissed her cheek. “Now get out of here so you make your flight on time.” He plucked Gus’s beanie hat from his head and dropped it onto the coffee table, then sat down, still cradling Gus’s small warm body against his chest.

***

Brian sat on the sofa in the downstairs living room, Gus on his chest, and Finlay curled against his side, watching cartoons. Gus had long ago fallen asleep, but Finlay seemed content to watch the brightly animated images flash across the screen for a little while.

“Papa?”

“Yes?” Brian looked over at the small boy who stared at him with Justin’s bright blue eyes.

“Where Da?”

“He’s at work. He’ll be home in a little while,” he replied. “Are you bored? Do you wanna play?”

“Pay!” Finlay squealed, his face lighting up as he began to bounce slightly and clap his hands.

“Okay, just let me put your brother in the playpen so he can continue his nap, okay?” Brian carefully stood, not wanting to awaken Gus, then walked around to the back of the sofa where he’d placed the playpen and carefully lowered the baby onto the blanket that lined the bottom of the pen. He carefully covered Gus with a small blue blanket, then went back around the sofa. “So what do you want to play?”

“Pay baw!”

“Okay then, little man.” He gently lifted the boy from the sofa and lightly set him on his feet. He held Finlay’s hand and walked him over to the small, inconspicuous toy chest in the corner. One thing Brian had insisted upon was that the children’s toys not interfere with the design of their home. He’d always detested it when parents allowed their children’s toys to spread throughout the house. Justin had agreed when he’d brought the issue up, stating that he intended, from the very beginning, to make sure Finlay understood that his things were to stay in his room when he wasn’t using them, that it was unacceptable for anyone in their household to make a huge mess and leave it.

When they neared the toy chest Finlay let go of his father’s hand and lunged for the toy box, his little hands carefully pushing up the wicker top as he balanced himself by leaning against the front of the box. Brian smiled as he watched the display; Finlay was definitely going to be independent.

“Papa! Baw!” Finlay reached into the box and retrieved a bright green ball, raising his left hand triumphantly as he smiled and bounced slightly.

Five minutes later Brian found himself sitting on the floor, Finlay a couple feet away, rolling the ball back and forth along the carpet while, nearby, Gus continued to sleep. He couldn’t remember either of his parents ever doing something so simple as rolling a ball to him as a child. Then again, it was unlikely Finlay would remember this day. But that was all right, really, as long as he grew up knowing he was loved and cared for, and had similar events to look back on as he became first a teenager and then a young man.

Brian was brought out of his ponderings a moment later as, simultaneously, the green ball bounced against his ankle and a loud knock sounded on the door. “Someone’s at the door, Fin. And you know why? Because the super is incompetent and can’t seem to ever fix the front door like he’s supposed to.”

“Doe!”

“That’s right. The door. Come on.” Brian stood, then leaned over and lifted the little boy into his arms. He opened the door, then sighed loudly, as his hand lightly caressed his son’s back. “Mom.” He offered a tight-lipped smile to the man standing behind her. “Reverend Tom.”


	4. Chapter Four

“Brian.” Tom’s surprise was apparent as he regarded the man who stood before him and the child held securely in his arms.

“I suppose it won’t do me any good to tell you I’m busy.”

“Surely you can spare an hour,” his mother remarked, pushing past him and stepping into the living room.

“Surely you’ll make me whether I want to or not.” he mocked as he turned his attention back to Tom, who stared, surprise evident on his face, at the little boy in his arms. “What are you doing here?”

“I didn’t know you were her son. I swear, if I’d known . . .” he whispered, his eyes gleaming in apology.

“Brian, we came here to talk to you,” his mother remarked from where she now sat in one of the overstuffed chairs.

“There’s nothing you have to say that I want to hear.” He carried Finlay over to the toy box, then set him down, gripping one hand lightly to help Finlay keep his balance. He reached into the box and retrieved the boy’s favorite red truck and handed it to him.

“Papa!” Finlay squealed, beginning to laugh. “Tuck!”

“Yes, I know. Let’s go play with the truck.”

“Pay!”

“Yes, but on the carpet, not on the wood because we don’t want scratches, right?”

“No scatch.”

“So,” Brian asked a few minutes later as he settled onto the sofa, “care to explain why you’re here?” He crossed his arms over his chest and glared at his mother. He was sure she’d been drinking. She drank every day, though many times only the trained eye could tell.

“I haven’t seen you since your father’s funeral.”

“Yeah, I’ve been busy.”

“Clearly you’ve been too busy for the Lord,” she remarked, her lips set in a thin line as her eyes shifted to the little boy pushing his truck around on the carpet. “I see you’re still living your depraved lifestyle.”

“Joan, you’re being a bit harsh, don’t you think?” Tom asked quietly, taking note of the angry set of Brian’s jaw.

“Tom, I explained to you on the way here that my son had strayed from the plan the Lord had for him.”

“And how would you know what that plan consists of?” Brian asked.

“It doesn’t consist of living as you do!”

“How is that? How do I live?”

“You know what I’m talking about, Brian!”

“Keep your fucking voice down,” Brian demanded, looking over at Finlay as the little boy suddenly stopped playing with his truck and regarded his father with curiosity, his bottom lip jutting out slightly.

“Papa?”

“It’s okay, Fin. You can keep playing.”

“Pay?”

“Yeah, go ahead.”

“Really, Brian, it’s pointless to talk to him like he understands everything you’re saying,” his mother scoffed.

“It helps his language development.” He looked at her and groaned. “Again . . . what are you doing here? Because aside from condemning me and telling me I’m going to Hell, I don’t really see why you’re here.”

“I spoke with Reverend Tom, told him you were on the wrong path and that I’d like him to come with me to talk to you. He was kind enough to come.” She clutched her purse tightly as she studied her son, the set of his jaw, the way his arms were crossed over the form-fitting white tee shirt he wore. She suddenly tilted her head to one side as a quiet whimper came from behind the sofa. “What was that?”

Brian stood and walked around the sofa to the playpen. Leaning over, he ran his hand over Gus’s back for a moment. When it became apparent that the little boy had no intention of going back to sleep he reached down and picked the child up, feeling his diaper as he held him against his shoulder.

“Gu!” Finlay exclaimed as Brian stepped around the sofa. He walked over to where Finlay sat and sat down beside him. He crossed his legs Indian-style and gently set Gus on the spot where his calves crossed. The baby slowly opened his eyes, his deep hazel eyes meeting his father’s. “Papa! Gu seep!”

“Well, he was sleeping. But now he’s waking up.”

“Brian?”

“Joan, perhaps we should go . . .”

“No. I’d like some answers.” Her eyes swept over her son and the children he was sitting with, drifting from the baby to the toddler and back again, before finally settling on Brian. “Where is these children’s mother?”

“What don’t you understand about the phrase ‘it’s none of your business?’” He sighed, then reached out, letting Gus grip his finger in his tiny fist. “And for further reference, you’re not having anything to do with my kids. And I think Justin would agree.”

“Justin? That . . . _boy_ . . . you live with?” she asked, a look of pure disgust settling on her aged features.

“Joan.” Tom looked between Brian and his mother, taking note of the rigid set of the man’s jaw, the way he busied his hands with opening and then closing one of the snaps along the front of the baby’s onesy.

“We’re not doing this in front of my kids.” He shifted his gaze to the clergyman. “Can you help me take them up to their rooms?” At Tom’s nod, he looked at his mother again. “Stay here. I’ll be back in a minute.” He handed Gus to Tom, then stood and swung Finlay into his arms.

Once upstairs, Tom immediately turned to Brian. “I’m so sorry. I really had no idea it was you we were coming to see.”

“Yeah. So do you try to save all the fags?”

“Brian, no! Of course not! That’s not . . . you know I don’t believe. . . . She said she was worried about you, that she was afraid for you. I encouraged her to talk to you, but she wanted me to come as support, I guess. She never said it was you. If she had, I wouldn’t have come.” He studied Brian for a moment, his gaze sweeping over the slightly taller man’s face. “So are you going to tell her?”

“About my marriage? Most likely. It’s not something I’m willing to hide. Neither are my children, for that matter. But I don’t want her around them. She did enough damage to me growing up. She’s not doing it to them.”

“And Justin?”

“He can take care of himself when it comes to her.” He sighed loudly. “I suppose I should deal with her before she raids the liquor cabinet.” 

“All right. I can watch them for you.”

Leaning forward, Brian planted a loud kiss on Finlay’s cheek, smiling as the boy broke out into a stream of loud giggles. He set the little boy down, then reached forward, lightly rubbing Gus’s back. “Their rooms are down the hall. Gus’s has the pine crib. He might be due for a diaper change soon. The diapers are in the top drawer of the changing table.” He kissed Gus, then turned and disappeared down the stairs, closing the door at the top of the stairs behind him as he went.

He found his mother sitting where he’d left her, her purse clutched tightly in her hands, her lips set in a thin line. He couldn’t remember her ever appearing relaxed. Granted, when she was completely drunk she was bound to be relaxed, but she’d never allowed him to see her like that. Apparently one raging drunk in the family was enough. Joanie, though . . . she drank just enough to numb herself during her journey through life.

“You have no business having children in your home,” she said vehemently, glaring up at him. “Exposing them to the life you live . . .”

“Haven’t we been through this all before? You disapprove, I don’t care.”

“Well, God does!”

“Then he can judge me when I die!” Brian exclaimed as the front door opened and Justin stepped inside.

“Christ, I leave for four hours and when I come home you’re in the middle of World War III.” He slipped out of his coat and hung it on the rack. “So what’re we fighting about now?” He looked at Brian and sighed heavily. “Are we going to Hell again?”

“It would seem so. And she brought re-inforcements. Though that happened to be Reverend Tom, so . . .” Brian remarked as Justin walked over to him and planted a light kiss on his lips.

“Yeah? And how’s Tom doing?”

“Good. He’s watching the kids.”

“Hm. I’ll have to say hi to him.” He turned to Brian’s mother as he slipped his fingertips under the back of Brian’s shirt. “So, Mrs. Kinney . . . why are you here? We’ve heard the fire and brimstone bullshit before, and we don’t need to hear it again.”

“It just appalls me that you’re so blind that you think this is an acceptable environment for raising children. They’re going to grow up thinking that there’s nothing wrong with how you live.”

“Yeah. Because it _is_ a perfectly normal way to live,” Brian remarked, draping his left arm over Justin’s shoulder. Justin leaned against him slightly, a small smile coming to his lips.

“You missed me, didn’t you?” he asked quietly, looking up at the taller man.

“I missed having you around to change the diapers.” Brian’s hand moved to the back of Justin’s neck, his fingers disappearing amid blond tendrils, as his lips found the younger man’s in a slow, tender kiss.

“I know you’re just trying to shock me.”

Brian pulled back, resting his forehead lightly against Justin’s for a moment before turning to look at his mother. “Actually, no, I’m not. I was simply kissing my husband. Which I have every right to do in _my_ home.”

“If it makes you uncomfortable you’re more than welcome to leave.” Justin leveled his icy glare at her and, pulling away from Brian a bit, crossed his arms over his chest, his left hand resting on his right bicep. As he watched the old woman, he took note of the way her eyes focused on his ring for a moment, before drifting to her son’s hand to take in the identical ring.

“How could you!” she demanded as Reverend Tom made his way down the stairs carrying a whimpering Gus.

“I think he’s hungry. Finlay fell asleep while playing, so he’s in his crib,” he remarked, handing Gus to Brian. “Hey, Justin.”

“Hi Tom.” Justin leaned over and peered at the little boy as he repeatedly pursed his lips. “Oh yeah, definitely hungry. Aren’t you, buddy?” He turned and started walking toward the kitchen, calling out, “I’ll get his bottle,” as he did.

“So you still haven’t explained this child’s existence.”

Brian cut a glare at his mother, then shifted Gus so that he rested against his shoulder. “He’s my son. We’re watching him while his mothers are out of town.”

“Mothers?”

“Yes. They’re lesbians. You know . . . munchers. As in they like to—.”

“I think she can figure the rest out, Brian,” Tom chastised, clearly having a hard time keeping the grin off his face as Justin walked back into the room, bottle in one hand and a dishtowel in the other. The younger man sat beside Brian, then placed the towel over his shoulder.

“Let me do it. You’ve got your hands full.”

“Okay, so we’ve established that we’re going to Hell, our children are doomed, and you’re a saint. Anything else, Mom?”

She glared at him for a moment, then took a deep breath. “I cannot believe you would be so callous as to mock marriage.”

“How the fuck am I mocking it?”

“Pretending to be married is mocking the very institution itself!”

“Nothing about our marriage is pretend, and it’s incredibly offensive that you’re sitting here, in our home, claiming that it is,” Justin remarked, looking up from the baby in his arms.

“Excuse me? How old are you again?”

“Leave his age out of this.” Brian sighed, then scratched the back of his neck. “So what’s your definition of marriage? What you and Pop had? What Claire and her ex had?”

“The bible clearly states that marriage is intended to be between a man and a woman.” She gripped her purse tightly, then forced herself to sit ramrod straight as she cast her disapproving glare at her son.

“So a marriage in which one partner abuses the other is okay, so long as they’re of different genders? Or one in which one, or both, abuse their children? Because that’s what your marriage was. And, forgive me, but I don’t consider that much of a marriage. If anything, that’s the mockery.”

“Marriage exists for the creation of children.”

“Perhaps in its most basic form,” Justin remarked. “But that doesn’t mean there can’t be other forms as well, that are just as meaningful and just as valid. What about marriages in which the partners choose not to have children? If you go by what you’re saying you believe, then you must believe that people who wish to remain childless should be prohibited from getting married as well.”

“If not for the creation of children, then what’s the point?”

“I think what they’re getting at, Joan, is that families are all different. They’re not all the clear-cut nuclear families they used to be. And that the definition of marriage might need to become slightly less rigid in order to encapsulate all of these families.”

“It’s just not right . . .”

“And the family you and Jack created was? Christ, Mom! Did you and Jack love each other at all? And what about Claire and me? Because if Pop had loved you, he wouldn’t have hit you. And if he’d loved me, he wouldn’t have punched me in the eye, and thrown me down the stairs, and broken my arms. And if you’d loved him, you wouldn’t have let him become the sorry excuse for a man that he was.” He stood quickly and made his way over to the window. Darkness was starting to fall, and as far as he could see, the streetlights glowed orange. He rested his forehead against the cool glass and took a moment to compose himself, before turning around and stepping over to the sofa once again.

Taking his seat beside Justin, he wrapped his arm around the younger man’s waist and peered at their youngest son. He couldn’t help thinking how much promise lay in Gus’s future, how many opportunities he’d have to have a wonderful childhood. How overwhelming it might be to have four parents watching his every step. Brian reached forward and ran the back of his right index finger gently over the boy’s cheek. He had a feeling that Gus was just waiting to turn into a hell-raiser and that he’d have to be the calm and rational member of their little parenting quartet.

“Brian . . . Justin. You have a beautiful family.” A genuine smile lit up Tom’s face as the words passed his lips and his eyes focused on the little blue bundle held against Justin’s shoulder.

“Thanks, Tom,” Justin replied with a smile. Brian couldn’t help noticing the way his mother’s eyes still focused on the younger man’s hand, on the gleaming platinum band surrounding his left ring finger. “I think so, too.” Justin turned his head and placed a gentle kiss on Brian’s lips. Then he shifted his gaze to Brian’s mother. “Our sons need our attention right now, so I think it’s time you left.”

“Yes, Joan, I believe that would be best.” As Brian and Justin stood, Tom reached forward to shake each of their hands. “It was good to see you again. Though it would have been better had the circumstances differed.”

“Not your fault,” Brian said quietly. “I appreciate everything you’ve done for us.”

“Yeah. I don’t think we ever properly thanked you for that. We were a little . . . caught up in everything. It was all very sudden.” Justin smiled, then smoothly and effortlessly shifted Gus from his shoulder to the crook of his arm.

“So I gathered.”

“Tom? What is this child talking about?” Joan asked, as Tom turned and began rapidly guiding her toward the door, his hand resting on her elbow as he did so.

Justin turned to Brian and, with his free hand, reached up and lightly ran his fingers along the older man’s jaw until Brian leaned forward and caught his lips in a blistering kiss. The sound of the door shutting as Joan and Tom left barely registered as the kiss deepened.

***

Brian’s back arched up off the blue sheet. Reaching down, he briefly entangled his fingers in his husband’s hair, before allowing those same fingers to come in contact with the smooth skin of his shoulders.

“I wanna fuck you,” Justin whispered a few minutes later as he settled between Brian’s legs and began working on his chest, alternating between kissing, licking and lightly biting. “And you want me to.”

“Uh huh.”

“Cause you know . . . when you want me to fuck you, you become rock hard and totally incoherent. And your eyes . . . they become impossibly dark.”

“Mm. Jus . . .” He reached for the bottle of lube on the nightstand and thrust it toward the smaller man. Then he pulled the younger man up for a kiss, his tongue sweeping over every crevice it came in contact with as he shifted again, this time locking his ankles just above the swell of Justin’s ass.

“Love you.”

“Prove it.”

***

The letter was inconspicuous enough when it arrived, just a simple white envelope bearing the insignia of the Pittsburgh Institute of Fine Art. Brian stared at it for a moment, carefully noting its weight as he considered the implications of whatever response was enclosed. Then he sighed and closed the mailbox in the lobby of the building.

Justin was in the kitchen when he returned, a plate of bacon and eggs on the table before him. Finlay was in his high chair, alternately playing with, and eating, the Cheerios in the bowl that had been set in front of him. During the week they tended to rush through breakfast, Brian downing a cup of coffee, occasionally eating an apple, before heading to the office and, until recently, Justin would alternate between feeding himself and feeding Finlay. It was only on Sundays that they could enjoy the luxury of eating at a relaxed pace without worrying too much about what they had to do next.

“I can’t believe I forgot to check the mail yesterday,” Justin remarked, taking note of the envelope in Brian’s hand.

“More important things were going on. But,” he held the letter up so that Justin could see the insignia, “this came for you.”

“Oh shit! It’s a rejection, I just know it!”

“You haven’t even opened the fucking thing, so how would you know?”

“Cause, I mean . . . look at the size of it. Rejections are always thin, acceptances are always thicker. That’s, like, a cardinal rule or something.”

“Just open the fucking letter so you know for sure.”

“I can’t.”

Brian looked at him for a moment, then rolled his eyes, huffed a sigh, and made a show out of tearing the letter open. His eyes scanned the paper, his face remaining blank.

“It’s bad, isn’t it? I knew it was bad. Fuck!”

“So . . . how much are all these supplies gonna cost, you think?”

“Huh?”

“You got in.”

“What?” He lunged across the table and grabbed the paper, his eyes scanning it as well. “Holy shit! I got in! Brian, I got in!” He jumped up, then made his way over to Brian and sat in his lap, his lips immediately finding the other man’s. When the kiss ended, he hugged the older man, burying his face against his neck. “I got in.”

***

Two weeks later Justin found himself wandering through the maze of hallways at PIFA. Why the school insisted on holding orientation in the middle of March was beyond him. Most schools, as far as he knew, tended to hold their orientations during the summer when the students would actually be able to attend. So to say that he was surprised when he stepped into the lecture hall bustling with the activities of a couple hundred incoming freshmen would be an understatement.

He stood just inside the doorway for a moment as he scoped out likely places to sit, then began climbing the stairs to claim a seat in the back. Once he was settled into a seat, he removed his phone from his pocket, switching the ringer to vibrate before replacing it.

“Hey. You here by yourself?”

Justin looked up and found himself gazing at a guy his age, sitting just two seats away, with long black hair and rectangular-shaped tattoos marking his forearms. “Yeah,” he replied with a nod. “You?”

“My friends are meeting me here.” He leaned forward and extended his hand. “I’m Zack Saunders.”

“Justin Taylor.” He shook the other man’s hand, then leaned back once again.

“So what medium do you work in?”

“Oh, um . . . I sketch mostly. Paint a little. I’ve been doing a little experimenting with some graphics programs. You?”

“Wood. I do a lot of woodcarving.”

“Cool,” Justin replied with a nod.

“Oh, hey, there they are.” Zack raised his hand and signaled to a plump red-haired girl and a skinny blond boy. Once the two were seated, Zack introduced them as Gwen McDonough and Ashton Macomber.

“It’s nice to meet you,” Justin remarked, as the orientation leaders made their way to the microphone and began unceremoniously tapping it to make sure it was on.

“So you wanna get lunch with us?” Gwen asked as they waited for the majority of the other potential PIFA students to exit the room following the lecture on campus rules and procedures. “There’s a really good Chinese place around the corner. And the next orientation thing isn’t until two.”

“Um, yeah, sure, sounds good. I just need to make a quick call. But I can do that as we walk.” Once they were outside, he pulled his phone from his pocket and slowed down, letting the other three teens walk ahead of him. The display showed that Brian had called, but not left a message. He dialed the other man’s direct line, not at all surprised when he answered with a gruff, “What?”

“Hey.”

“Oh, hey. Sorry, bad day.”

“What’s happened?”

“Incompetent fuckers in the art department. I seriously wish you could come work for me.”

“Well, I need my degree first.”

“Speaking of which, how’s orientation going?”

“It’s boring as hell.”

“Of course. Did you get the sexual harassment lecture?”

“Oh yeah. But no need to worry . . . I’ll not be grabbing anyone’s tits.”

“That goes without saying.”

“Anyway, I’m on my way to lunch with some people I met at the god-awful boring lecture, and I’d noticed you’d called. So . . .?”

“Yeah. Looks like I’m gonna be tied up here longer than I thought,” he replied with a loud sigh.

“Why, what’s wrong?”

“Fuckups all around that I have to fix. Because, of course, Marty doesn’t want to. Fuck . . . I can’t wait until I have my own agency. Then I can do all the hiring.”

“You sound really tired.”

“Well, someone kept me up half the night.”

“Only because you kept me up.” He shifted his gaze toward the group in front of him, then noticed the restaurant in the distance. “Anyway, I don’t know what time this orientation thing is going to get over. I have a feeling it’s gonna run late.”

“Okay. I’ll figure something out. Maybe I’ll pick Fin up and bring him back to the office for a little while. Now that he’s getting older he and Cynthia are starting to get along.”

“Yeah,” Justin replied with a slight laugh. “I’ll see you at home, then. Love you.”

“Love you, too. Later.”

“Later.”

“So where do you go to school?” Ashton asked once they had filled their plates at the buffet and seated themselves at a table at the back of the room.

“Oh. Um, I don’t, actually. I went to night school. I graduated in December,” Justin replied as he speared a piece of broccoli. “What about you?”

“We all go to Allegheny High,” Gwen replied, reaching for her glass of water, her eyes settling on his hand. “Are you _married?”_

Justin looked up to find the other boys watching him with curiosity, their gazes drifting to his hand as well. “Yeah, for almost three months,” he replied with a slight smile. “Actually, my husband went to Allegheny.” Just then his phone began vibrating. He pulled it from his pocket and glanced at the display. “Sorry, I have to take this.” He flipped the phone open and pressed it to his ear.

“So here’s the plan,” Brian began. “I’ll pick Fin up at three and bring him back to the office. Marty’s decided we need to have a meeting with all of the junior execs at five. I tried getting in touch with Daphne, but her mother said she’s busy tonight and can’t possibly get out of it. So what I can do is, I’ll stop by PIFA at four thirty so you can take him home. That is, if orientation is over with by then.”

“If it’s not I’ll skip out. If the day so far is any indication, then I’m sure it won’t even matter.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yeah. So, four thirty . . . you know where the campus center is?”

“Yeah.”

“I’ll meet you out front.”

“Sounds good,” he replied. “Okay, gotta go. Later.”

“Later.” He smiled at his companions. “Sorry about that. But I think that should be the last interruption.”

“Not a problem,” Ashton replied, repeatedly dunking his straw in and out of his Mountain Dew. “I mean, I had a girlfriend once who, like, called me every five seconds. Drove me insane.”

“Cindy?” 

“Yeah.”

“Just goes to show that cheerleaders are co-dependent whackjobs,” Gwen remarked.

“You know you’d be a cheerleader if you could.”

“Um, no. I like having a functioning brain, thank you. So, Justin . . . what’s the raunchiest thing you’ve ever done in bed?”

“Uh, I’m so not telling you about that,” he replied, unable to hold back his laughter.

“Oh, come on. Feed a girl’s imagination.” She wiggled her already arched brows, then reached for her water again.

***

Justin glanced at his watch. It was four-twenty and the orientation was still going on, only now they had been split into groups, one for commuters and one for resident students. The purpose of this particular meeting was to learn about how to make friends as a commuter.

“Many of you,” the group leader explained, “might feel isolated from the rest of your classmates. You might feel as though you’re not having the same college experience that they are. But that doesn’t have to be the case. If you get involved . . .”

Justin stood, grabbed his bag, and quietly left the lecture hall. He was nearly out of the building when he heard Zack calling to him. He stopped and turned for a moment, waiting for the other boy to catch up to him.

“You get tired of sitting through that bullshit?”

“Hm, well, it was pretty pointless. I’m not expecting to have a college experience similar to most other people’s so it’s irrelevant.” He started walking again, and Zack fell into step beside him. “I’m heading over to the campus center.”

“Mind if I tag along?”

“Um, okay. Yeah, sure.” They were silent for a moment until Justin said, “Does Gwen really ask everyone about their sex lives?”

“Oh, yeah. She’s totally inappropriate half the time. Like, her mind has this inability to censor what comes out of her mouth.”

“Sounds a bit like Brian, actually.” He smiled as he spotted Brian leaning against the Jeep, his hands stuffed into the pocket of the long Armani overcoat he wore. “Speaking of Brian . . .”

“Hurry up, Blondie, I have to get back.” Brian grinned as Justin neared him and immediately pushed him against the side of the Jeep and kissed him, his tongue tracing the inside of his husband’s mouth, then his lips, before he pulled back.

“Better?” He lightly nipped at the older man’s jaw, then wrapped his arms around his waist and rested his head against his shoulder.

“Well, I sure the fuck wasn’t expecting to be tackled. Man on man sports are so overrated,” he replied, his hands finding their way inside Justin’s blue peacoat.

“Since when?”

“Since naked wrestling was taken out of the Olympics.”

“I’ll show you naked wrestling.”

“Later, definitely.” He leaned over and placed a soft kiss against Justin’s lips. “So who’s your friend?”

“Oh! Hey, Zack, come here. Zack, this is my husband, Brian Kinney. Brian, Zack Saunders. He was sitting a couple seats down from me at that first orientation session.”

Brian quickly shook the other man’s hand as Justin went around the side of the Jeep and opened the door.

“Daddy!” Finlay screeched, fighting against the car seat restraints that held him firmly in place.

“Hey, little man.” Justin leaned forward, planting a kiss on Finlay’s forehead as he began unfastening the restraints. The moment he was done Finlay began wiggling again, practically jumping into his father’s arms as he struggled to free himself from the car seat.

He carried Fin around the side of the Jeep, taking note of the curiosity written all over Zack’s face. He offered the other teen a small smile, then turned his attention back to his family as Brian spoke.

“I should get going. Fucking Marty. I swear to god . . .”

“Just try not to fire anyone, okay?” Justin asked with a grin. He knew the older man would only fire those who truly deserved it, but he sometimes enjoyed teasing Brian about his desire to fire anyone who appeared incompetent in even the slightest of ways.

“Twat.”

“Yeah, but you love me.”

“Yeah, I suppose.” Brian grinned, then leaned forward and captured the younger man’s lips in a gentle kiss. “I’ll see you later.” Then he planted a kiss on Finlay’s forehead and instructed him to be good. Looking up, he found the long-haired boy alternately looking at them and staring at the ground. “Nice meeting you, Zack.”

“Oh, um . . . yeah. You too.”

They watched as Brian pulled away from the curb, turning there attention to Finlay as the little boy exclaimed, “Papa gone!”

“Just for a while.”

“No. Wan pay wi Papa!”

“He’ll play with you when he gets home from work, okay?”

“’Kay.”

“Man, you weren’t kidding when you said you wouldn’t have the typical college experience anyway,” Zack remarked, his eyes drifting from Justin to the baby in his arms and back again.

“Hm, yeah. But I don’t care. I like my not-so-typical life. Speaking of which, this is my son, Finlay. Fin, say hi to Zack.”

“Hi,” the little boy said quietly. Then he looked back at his father. “Ice ceem!”

“You want ice cream?”

“Yeah!”

“Aren’t you cold?” Finlay nodded. “Then why do you want ice cream?”

“Chocate.”

“Hm . . . you’ve got your mind set on this, don’t you?”

“Chocate, Daddy!”

Justin smiled and looked at Zack. “I guess I have to find him some chocolate.”

“Oh, okay.” He looked around as though trying to figure out where to go.

“Wanna come? There’s this diner on Liberty Avenue that Brian and I go to sometimes . . . figured I’d get Fin some hot chocolate. He’s never had it, so it’ll be a new experience for him.”

“Yeah, okay. Sure as hell don’t want to go back to orientation.”

***

Justin watched Zack as he gazed around the diner. The dinner crowd was starting to make its way inside, and the small establishment was quickly on its way to reaching full capacity.

“It’s very . . . colorful . . . in here.”

“Yeah,” Justin replied with a slight laugh as he looked around as well. “I think Debbie picked the color scheme. It matches her vest.” He grinned and gestured to the woman as she passed. When she came back he ordered a mug of lukewarm hot chocolate for Finlay and a cup of coffee for himself. Zack ordered a cup of coffee as well.

“So you hang out here a lot?”

“No, not really.” Justin bounced Finlay lightly in his lap, earning a round of quiet giggles from the boy. “Brian practically lived here for a long time. Debbie’s the mother of his best friend. Well, former best friend. Anyway, he started hanging out here when he was a little younger than us. Now . . . well, he doesn’t get along with Michael all that well at the moment. And, you know . . . we’ve just been busy.”

“Yeah. I can’t imagine having a kid.”

“Hm, try having two.” Justin thanked Debbie as she delivered the hot chocolate. “We have another son. I mean, we don’t really have any rights to him, Brian signed them over to his son’s mother’s lover. But he visits sometimes and we go to see him. So, for all intents and purposes, he’s our son, too.” Justin retrieved a sippy cup from Finlay’s diaper bag, then carefully poured the hot chocolate into it. He handed it to Finlay and watched as the little boy took his first taste of hot chocolate.

“Daddy!” he squealed as he pulled the cup from his mouth. “Chocate!”

“Yup.”

“Chocate wader, Daddy.” Finlay giggled again, then popped the cup’s spout back into his mouth. 

Out of the corner of his eye Justin noticed Michael as he entered the diner, his arm around the waist of a tall man wearing a brown leather coat and a pair of wire-rimmed glasses. Choosing to ignore the man’s glare, he turned his attention back to his new friend and his son.


	5. Chapter Five

Often, when the glitter fell at Babylon and landed in Justin’s hair, and stuck to his damp skin, Brian would find himself thinking he’d never seen a more beautiful sight. And then when he leaned over as Justin tipped his head back and trailed his tongue from collarbone to chin and heard Justin groan before capturing his lips in a heated kiss, he couldn’t help thinking Justin’s moans had never been sexier.

“Mm, Brian, I want you to fuck me,” Justin moaned as he began his own assault on the other man’s jaw.

“We just got here.”

“Backroom.”

“No.” Brian leaned back slightly, then grabbed the younger man’s hand and guided him off the dance floor and toward the bar. He ordered two shots of Beam, then turned and leaned with his elbows on the bar as he surveyed the dance floor. Turning, he looked at his young husband for a moment and sighed, then reached for his hand and pulled him against himself, back to chest. “I don’t want to fuck you in front of a room full of people. Not anymore.”

“Why? Because we’re married or because we’re doing it raw?”

“Both, I guess,” Brian replied with a shrug, reaching for one shot of Beam and handing it to the younger man before retrieving his own glass and downing the amber liquid in one gulp. “I know I’ve always been big on personal responsibility, sort of, and have generally believed that if people fuck up their lives that it’s their own fault . . . but I just . . . if we went in the back room and fucked and the guys back there saw that we weren’t playing safe, then, guaranteed, at least one of them would take that as a sign that he doesn’t have to, either.”

“That’s so totally fucked up,” Justin replied, sagged against Brian, then passed his empty glass over his shoulder. Brian took it from him and carefully set it on the bar. 

“I know,” Brian replied as Ted and Emmett made their way across the crowded dance floor,

“So how are the lovebirds this fine evening?”

“Fucking shut up with the comments, Emmett.” Brian glared at him for a moment, then slipped his hand under Justin’s waistband.

“That’s really not helping any.” 

“I know.” Brian grinned, letting his hand inch further into the front of Justin’s cargo pants. He grinned, taking in Emmett and Ted’s shocked expressions as Justin leaned against him and let out a loud groan as Brian’s fingertips made contact with his sensitive skin.

“So, um . . . what are your plans for the evening?” Emmett asked as Justin suddenly slipped his hand behind Brian’s neck and pulled the man down for a kiss. “Oh, um . . . Teddy?”

“Yes, Em?”

“Should we leave?”

“The bathroom!” Justin suddenly exclaimed at he pulled away from Brian. “The stalls have doors!”

“I knew I didn’t marry you just for your ass,” Brian remarked, taking his hand out of Justin’s pants and dragging the younger man away from the bar at an almost breakneck speed.

“Why would they be fucking in the bathroom?” Emmett asked.

“Well, I would say, and this is just a wild guess so I could be way off, that maybe they don’t want anyone watching.”

“They’ve never minded before. Why should they mind now?”

“I suppose that it’s within the realm of possibility that they could have decided to forgo the use of condoms.”

“What? No! Brian wouldn’t . . . would he? I can’t imagine . . . well, I can imagine . . . but Brian?”

“It’s entirely possible, if you think about it. How many married couples use condoms for anything other than birth control? And it’s not like they have to worry about that. And if that’s the case then it makes sense that they don’t want everyone watching. Because, come on . . . when’s the last time you did it? And if you could do it again, with no worries about your health being put at risk, with someone you loved and intended to spend the rest of your life with, would you want a bunch of horny guys watching?”

“Well, no, but . . . fuck! Teddy! They’re doing it raw!” 

“Who’s doing it raw?” Michael suddenly materialized beside them.

“Brian and Justin.” Ted set down his empty beer bottle and signaled for another.

“There’s no way in hell Brian would ever fuck someone without a condom.” Michael shook his head vehemently. “After all the safe sex lectures he’s given us over the years, there’s just no way.”

“Maybe you’re right.” Ted tipped his bottle and drained some of his beer. “Though I seriously doubt it.”

***

Justin smiled as Brian’s hands found their way into the back of his cargos as they stumbled through their front door. He smiled, then pulled Brian’s head down for a kiss as the other man kicked the door shut.

“I think you lied tonight.”

“About what?” Brian pushed him back onto the plush living room sofa and attacked his neck.

“I think you _did_ marry me just for my ass.”

“No. Not just that.” He slid Justin’s shirt up, then pulled it off and dropped it on the floor, before quickly doing the same with his own. “I married you for your ass, your cock, your mouth,” kissing the aforementioned mouth, “and because I need someone around 24/7 to fuck.”

“And to be fucked by.”

“Of course.” He leaned back and quickly divested first Justin, and then himself, of their pants, adding them to the heap on the floor. “Man can’t live on fucking alone.”

“Then I don’t know how you managed so long without me.” He grinned as Brian slid down his body, then gently twisted his fingers in the other man’s hair.

***

“Mm, fuck.” Justin raised his hips to meet Brian’s, his hands attempting to find purchase on the slippery leather of the sofa. Giving up, he resigned himself to the fact that there was little he could do to prevent his head from hitting the arm of the sofa so instead of even trying, he reached up, letting his hands settle on Brian, one on his shoulder and the other on the back of his neck. “Brian.”

“Fuck, Jus.” He leaned forward and pressed a feverish kiss to Justin’s lips as he continued to thrust. “Mm. Close.”

“Yeah.” As Brian’s head dropped to his shoulder he found himself slipping his fingers into the older man’s damp hair. One more thing to hang onto, he thought, as the phone began its shrill ringing. “Don’t you dare fucking stop,” Justin ground out, gripping the older man even tighter with his thighs, then groaning.

“Couldn’t if I wanted to.” He studied Justin’s face as the younger man tipped his head back as his orgasm overcame him. “Oh, fuck!” He collapsed heavily onto his husband, feeling the warmth that spread across his stomach and chest as he did so.

They lay there, a mass of sweaty limbs, as the machine picked up, a female voice suddenly filling the apartment. Brian groaned, then reached blindly for the cordless phone. “Yes, Mrs. Taylor?”

“Oh, you’re home! Did I wake you?”

“No. It’s three in the morning. What’s going on?” He lazily ran his thumb over Justin’s nipple, grinning as he noted the sharp intake of breath that was the result.

“Um . . . I received some bad news this evening.” She let out a loud sigh before continuing. “Justin’s great-grandmother passed away this morning. One of her neighbors found her in the house . . . she had a stroke.”

“Fuck,” he replied, his hand stilling and his chest becoming tight.

“What’s wrong?” Justin looked at him questioningly, his fingers brushing against Brian’s cheek.

“Can we call you back tomorrow for the details?”

“Of course. I should know by then when and where the service will be.”

“Thanks.” Brian turned the phone off, then tossed it onto the end table, the heavy plastic making a loud thud as it landed on the wood. He sat up, pulling Justin with him, until the younger man rested against him.

“What did my mother want?”

“She called about your Gran,” he replied quietly, his arms tightening around the younger man. “She had a stroke this morning.”

“What?” He sat up and turned so that he could see his husband. His eyes were wide, and it took only a moment for them to shine with unshed tears. “Is she okay? Brian, is she gonna be okay? She’s in the hospital, right?”

Reaching forward, Brian ran his fingers along Justin’s cheek as he shook his head. He watched for a moment as Justin leaned forward, his head in his hands, then he reached out and pulled the younger man against him once again, rubbing his back as he cried.

“She was the only one,” Justin whispered a short time later. “The only one who tried to help me. To understand.”

“I know.”

“She loved Finlay.”

“She did.”

“She loved you, too.”

***

Brian had just walked from the kitchen to the living room, cup of coffee in hand, when there was a loud knock at his front door. He scowled and reminded himself for the umpteenth time to tell the super to fix the fucking lobby door. Taking one more gulp of coffee to fortify himself, he opened the front door and found himself face to face with Michael.

“What are you doing here?”

“I just . . . I wanted to talk to you.”

“We don’t really have anything to say to each other anymore, Michael. Just . . . go home or to work, or to your new boyfriend . . . I don’t care. Just go.”

“Not until you hear what I have to say.” He pushed past Brian and stepped into the living room, gazing around at the little touches that had been added over the months. Some of Justin’s artwork covered the walls. A baby blanket was thrown over the arm of the couch, and a pair of Justin’s sneakers was on the floor beside the coat rack.

“Then make it quick.”

“Why aren’t you at work?”

“I wasn’t up to going. Now what do you want?”

“Okay. I know you’re kind of mad at me still, and that you probably won’t believe what I have to tell you, but I thought you should know. I think Justin’s cheating on you.”

“And what’s brought you to this brilliant conclusion?”

“I saw him at the diner with some guy last week.”

“He’s not cheating on me, Michael.”

“Well, Ben thinks he might. He says that, statistically, people who get married young don’t stay married, that they don’t make the right decisions and are prone to giving up when things get tough.” He looked away for a moment before continuing. “He also thinks that Justin will get tired of being the old married man at such a young age.”

“This is getting really old, Michael.” Brian scrubbed a hand over his face and regarded the other man. “That guy you saw? His name’s Zack; Justin met him at the PIFA orientation.”

“And you’re okay with them being together?”

“He’s allowed to have friends! I don’t control who his friends are, Michael. And they’re not together, not in the way you mean.” He glared at the other man. “If you think telling me shit like this is going to get you back in my good graces then you’re fucking stupider than I could have ever imagined.”

“What’s going on?” Justin made his way down the stairs, clad only in a pair of black sweats, Finlay in his arms. His hair was tousled, his blue eyes red-rimmed and slightly puffy.

“Mikey was just telling me something of vital importance to no one but himself.”

“Same as every other time, then,” he said quietly, lightly kissing the older man, then turning and making his way toward the kitchen. “I hope you left me some coffee,” he called over his shoulder. “After last night, I sure as hell need it.”

“Of course.” He watched Justin until the younger man and their son passed into the dining room just as the phone began to ring. Brian quickly grabbed it, only to discover Jennifer on the other end. “Mrs. Taylor.”

“Brian,” she remarked with obvious tiredness in her voice. “I hope I didn’t wake you. I was just calling to let you and Justin know about the funeral arrangements.”

“It’s only nine in the morning . . . how’d you get them made so quickly?”

“Well, my father already knew what Gran wanted. I guess they’d talked about it a few months ago. So everything’s set,” she remarked.

“Okay.” Brian wandered over to the small stand in the corner and opened the drawer, pulling out a small pad of paper and a pen. He quickly jotted down the details as his mother-in-law recited them, then thanked her and hung up, then dialed his office. “Hey, Cyn, it’s me. Clear my schedule. I’ll be out of town until the 31st of March.”

“What’s going on?”

“Justin’s great grandmother died. We’re flying to Chicago for the funeral. Book a flight and rental car for us. I’m not sure yet where we’re staying. I’ll call as soon as I know.” He switched off the phone, then turned to find Justin walking into the living room, holding Finlay’s hand as the little boy walked slowly beside him. “Hey. Cyn’s arranging the flight.”

“Okay.”

“And your mom called. The funeral’s at noon on Thursday.”

“Yeah, okay.” He nodded, then picked up Finlay and handed him to Brian. “I’m going to take a shower.” He pressed a light kiss to Brian’s lips. “Put Fin in his playpen and come join me when you get done here.”

Brian studied his young husband as the other man made his way up the stairs, then turned his attention to their son. “You’re wide awake, aren’t you, little man?”

“Papa?” Finlay whispered.

“Yes.”

“Daddy sad.”

“Yeah, he is.”

“Kiss.”

“You want a kiss?”

“Papa kiss Daddy.”

“Yeah? I promise I’ll kiss Daddy.” Brian smiled slightly at the little boy and lightly rubbed his back as the child rested his head against Brian’s bare shoulder. Then he turned his attention back to Michael. “Anything else you feel the need to tell me, Mikey?”

“I just . . .” He stared at Brian for a moment, before gazing across the room. “What happened to us? I just . . . I thought things would be different. That we’d always be friends.”

“We still can be. Though I’ll be the first to admit that at the moment I’m not very fond of you.”

“What about Justin? He doesn’t want us to be friends.”

“He doesn’t choose my friends, Michael. The same way I don’t choose his. If he wants to be friends with Zack, that’s his choice. If I want to be friends with you, then that’s my choice. But I’d be lying if I said I was thrilled with the way you’ve been treating him and our son.”

“You’re just, like, this totally different person.”

“And why is that a bad thing?”

“Because you never wanted any of this!” Michael exclaimed, startling Finlay.

“Keep your voice down, Michael.” He sighed, then studied his friend for a moment. “You know, all I’ve ever wanted for you was for you to be happy. And with Ben, you really seem to be.”

“I _am_ happy.”

“So am I. Now, if you’ll excuse me,” he remarked, moving toward the door and opening it, “I’m wanted upstairs.”

“Ted and Emmett think you’re fucking Justin bareback,” he remarked. “And . . . I think they might be right.”

“Hm. I didn’t realize my sex life was still a main topic among you three. Surely it’s a sign that you need to get a life.”

“Will you stop fucking joking about this? It’s serious!” Michael demanded as Brian shut the door once again and made his way over to Finlay’s toy box. Once he retrieved a toy truck and let Finlay loose on the carpet to play with it, he returned his attention to Michael.

“Look, Mikey, I appreciate that you’re concerned about me, but there’s nothing for you to worry about. I’m fine.”

“You don’t know that!”

Brian studied the shorter man for a moment before quietly speaking. “I’m not Ben. I’m not going to get sick. This is a different situation. And it was a decision Justin and I made together.”

“You mean something he talked you into.” Michael crossed his arms over his chest and glanced out the window for a moment. “It’s still not safe.”

“He didn’t talk me into it. Come on, Michael, he’s my husband. If we decide to forgo the condoms, then that’s our choice. We’re entitled to a latex-free sex life.”

“He’s putting you in danger. If he’s fucking this Zack guy . . .”

“He’s not! Jesus Fucking Christ, Michael! Why are you trying to cause problems?”

“I’m trying to look out for you. You’re my best friend and I’m concerned. Ben thought he was safe, too, thought his ex loved him enough to be honest with him, and now he’s positive. It’s not always best to trust people.”

“Think whatever you want, Michael. You will anyway. If you want to believe Justin’s cheating on me and putting me at risk, then nothing I say will convince you otherwise, regardless of how wrong you are. I know the truth, and so does Justin, and it doesn’t matter what anyone else thinks. Now, it’s time for you to go.” He grabbed Michael’s arm and dragged the other man toward the front door, making sure he was safely on the other side before closing it in his face.

***

“So what’d Michael really want?” Justin asked as Brian stepped into the shower and slipped his arms around his waist, holding him back to chest.

“Ted and Emmett figured out we’ve been fucking raw and they told Michael.”

“And that’s Michael’s business how?”

“Damned if I know.” Brian reached up and began massaging the tenseness from Justin’s shoulders. With a groan, Justin tilted his head back until his damp blond locks came into contact with Brian’s skin. Brian allowed one hand to trail down the length of Justin’s right arm, then along his chest, until his palm came to rest against the younger man’s stomach, his thumb brushing back and forth against his smooth skin. He bent his head slightly, catching the younger man’s lips with his own and stifling the small groan Justin issued a moment later.

“You don’t regret it, though, do you?” Justin asked when the kiss ended and Brian turned him around and began washing his chest.

“No. I never thought I’d be in a stable enough relationship that I’d be able to do it. And I’d accepted that, cause I was never a relationship kind of guy. Of course it feels amazing, being able to fuck without anything between us, being able to really _feel_ each other like that, but it’s more than that. It just feels . . . right. Like that’s how it’s supposed to be between us.”

Smiling, Justin leaned forward, his lips claiming his husband’s. “I love you,” he whispered as he ended the kiss, then began trailing soft kisses down Brian’s neck, licking at the drops of water on his skin as he did so.

***

Justin stood at the back of the church for a moment, Brian at his side with Finlay in his arms, and gazed around. He’d never been in the church in his grandmother’s town, but he’d passed by it enough to know it was small. Yet even so it wasn’t totally full. Many of his cousins had apparently decided not to come.

“We should go up,” Brian said quietly, nodding in the direction of the open casket. Justin nodded, then fell into step beside Brian as they walked down the aisle of the church, pausing only to hand Finlay off to Molly. Then, with Brian’s hand on his lower back, they made their way to the casket.

“I don’t think she would’ve liked this,” Justin said quietly.

“Probably not.” Brian raised his hand to the back of Justin’s neck and began gently massaging the tight muscles as he turned Justin around and led him toward the empty seats beside Jennifer and Molly.

Justin sat beside his mother and immediately reached for Finlay. He wrapped his arms around the little boy and offered him a slight smile.

“Daddy?” he asked quietly, staring up at Justin, his large blue-green eyes shining.

“Yeah, baby?”

“Sad?”

“Yeah, I’m sad.”

“Kiss you.”

Leaning forward a bit more, Justin accepted the sloppy kiss his son planted on his cheek. He smiled again, and dropped a kiss on the little boy’s forehead. Somehow Finlay made everything better.

***

Justin was sitting in the corner of the living room of his great grandmother’s house, a sleeping Finlay on his lap, when his grandfather, Jon, walked over and sat on the opposite end of the sofa.

“Justin,” he said quietly, nodding. “Haven’t seen you in a while.”

“Yeah.”

“How’ve you been?”

“Really good.”

“You in school?”

“I finished high school. Been accepted to college.”

“And how’s . . .” The old man shifted his gaze toward the sleeping toddler, then back to Justin.

“Finlay. Finlay Sullivan Kinney Taylor,” he said quietly. “He’s good. Happy.”

“That’s a long name for such a little boy.”

“Yes, but it’s his name.” 

“Look, Justin . . .” The older man sighed, gazing away for a moment toward the opposite end of the living room where the majority of those who had attended the funeral were gathered around the buffet. “Why don’t you come home? Your grandmother misses you and . . . I’d like to get to know Finlay.”

“I don’t want to come back. Chicago isn’t my home. And . . . I know you’re my family and everything, and I appreciate that you actually want me around after everything that’s happened, but I have my own life, my own family in Pittsburgh.” He felt a nudge to his shoulder and, looking up, saw Brian holding out a glass with about half an inch of whiskey in the bottom. “Thanks.” He smiled slightly and accepted the drink, quickly swallowing it, then setting the glass on the end table as Brian sank down beside him.

“Did he just fall asleep?” Brian nodded toward Finlay, then downed his own whiskey, passing the glass to Justin so he could set it beside his own.

“Yeah, a couple minutes ago.”

“Can’t say I’m surprised, what with him being up at the crack of dawn this morning.”

“You know you loved it. You got to bond with him over cartoons. Just like every other day you get up early with him.”

“Uh huh. Whatever you say, Blondie.”

“Really? Hm . . . okay, then. Whatever I say.” He smiled at the older man for a moment, then leaned forward and placed a quick kiss on his lips.

“Justin?”

“Oh!” Justin grinned and shook his head slightly, as if to clear it of some amount of fogginess. “Grandpa, I’d like you to meet my husband, Brian Kinney. Brian, this is my grandfather, Jon Sorensen.”

“Good to meet you.” Brian leaned forward, extending his hand. “I wish it could have been under better circumstances.” He took note of the way the older man gazed first at his left hand and then at Justin’s, taking in their matching rings, as Finlay began to stir. The little boy slowly opened his eyes, then yawned.

“Daddy?” he whispered as Justin helped him sit up and began straightening his little suit.

“Yes?” Justin quickly combed his fingers through the little boy’s hair and in a matter of seconds managed to get it into some semblance of order.

“Dink.”

“What would you like? Juice or water?” he asked, smiling slightly at the little boy.

“Wader.”

“Okay. You stay with Papa and I’ll go get you some water.” The blond man placed a kiss on his son’s forehead, then passed the boy to Brian before standing up. “I’ll be right back.” Then he stood and wandered off in the direction of the kitchen.

“Papa?”

“Yes?” Brian and Jon’s attention was drawn back to the little boy.

“Neenee?”

“She’s back home. She has school. You’ll see her in a couple days.”

“’Kay.” Finlay leaned contentedly against Brian’s chest and began playing with the small cuffs of his little jacket.

“So, Brian . . . how long have you and Justin known each other? If you don’t mind my asking, that is.” 

“We met in August, so almost eight months.”

“That’s a whirlwind courtship.”

“I suppose you could say that.” He began gently rubbing Finlay’s stomach as the little boy popped his thumb into his mouth. He gazed around the living room for a moment, taking in Justin’s relatives as they milled about, some casting curious looks in his direction from time to time.

“And the two of you are . . . married?”

“As married as we can be.”

“Still, it’s strange. He’s so much younger than you.”

“Well, your parents had a good marriage, even though your mother was quite young when they married.”

“Where’d you hear that?” Jon gazed at the younger man, his eyes scanning his cool exterior.

“We came up to visit in November. And we got to talking.” Brian smiled slightly. “I wish I could have known Inga better. She was . . . the kind of grandmother everyone should have. And she didn’t hate me, so that was a plus.”

“Well, she was a good judge of character, so if she liked you, then you can’t be all bad.” The older man smiled slightly, then gazed around the living room for a moment. “I suppose I should mingle a bit more. Excuse me.”

Meanwhile, Justin had found his way to the kitchen. He had gotten a bottle of water and was in the process of looking for a small plastic cup when his Aunt Maggie spotted him going through the cupboards.

“Justin?”

“Oh. Hi.”

“I thought that was you. I didn’t expect to see you here.”

“Well, Gran and I were always close,” he replied, finally locating a cup. He set it on the counter beside the water, then closed the cupboard and turned to face his aunt. She was the nosey one out of all of his aunts, so he should have expected that she’d get to him eventually.

“It’s just been a while since any of us have seen you.”

“Well, I’ve had a lot going on. My life’s kind of crazy right now.”

“I’d assume so, having a child at your age.” She looked down her nose at him, her lips forming a thin line as she did so. “Though I hear your mother and sister moved to wherever it is you’re living now, so that must make things easier. I’m sure your mother helps you.”

“No, actually she doesn’t,” Justin replied, turning and picking up the water bottle and the small plastic cups. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, my son needs a drink.”

“Actually, I was wondering about something else, if you don’t mind my asking,” she asked, her hand coming to rest on his arm, stopping him as he attempted to escape the confines of his great-grandmother’s spacious kitchen. “Who is that gorgeous man who came with you today? Because, you know, your cousin Alicia is still trying to find a husband.”

“Well, she’ll have to look a bit longer, because he’s already married. Now, I really do need to be getting back . . .”

***

Brian and Justin sat in the back of the den, Finlay sleeping on a blanket Justin had laid on the floor upon their entering the room. His grandmother’s lawyer had gathered them here for the reading of the will, as was the custom following a funeral reception. Most of those in attendance had barely spoken to him, a small blessing as far as he was concerned, though his aunt couldn’t seem to help herself from peering at them curiously every so often.

“All right, let’s begin,” the short, balding man began. “My name is Lawrence Caruthers. I’m Inga Sorensen’s attorney. As such, I’ll be reading her last will and testament.” He cleared his throat and began. “ ‘I, Inga Anne Sorensen, being of sound mind. . . .”

Justin listened quietly, twisting his wedding ring around his finger, as the will was read. He glanced down at Finlay, taking in his cherubic face and blond locks. They’d kept putting it off for one reason or another, had never gotten around to it, but he and Brian really needed to get their finances sorted and get their wills and powers of attorney drawn up. There was little excuse for not having done it in the first place but, as he sat there listening to his great-grandmother’s lawyer distribute her belongings among her family members, he knew it was the next step they had to make.

“And finally, to my great-grandson, Justin Taylor, and his husband, Brian Kinney, I leave my land and everything on it not previously declared as someone else’s inheritance. I know the two of you love this place and will care for it as Erik and I always did, and though I know your life together is based in Pittsburgh, I hope you’ll find this place to be a retreat for yourselves and your children. In addition I’ve created a trust fund in the sum of $500, 000 dollars for your children. This is one trust fund, since your family is just beginning, but I expect that this money will be divided evenly among any children the two of you father or adopt.”

Mr. Caruthers flipped the papers shut, then folded his hands on the desk and looked up at the family of Inga Sorensen. “It’s all pretty self-explanatory. Cut and dry, as they say. She’s named her son, Jon, as the executor.”

“Thank you, Mr. Caruthers.”

“All the paperwork, deeds to the land and the house, are here,” the lawyer replied, handing an envelope to Jon. “And here’s a copy of the will and testament, as well as a detailed list of that which is being handed down to various family members.”

“This can’t be right,” Maggie said, as she peered over her father’s shoulder, her gaze aimed at the list.

“Sit back down, Maggie, and be quiet. This is what your grandmother wanted,” Jon quietly admonished his daughter.

“But all we were left with was her wedding dress, jewelry, some pictures, and her stock portfolio!”

“It’s nice to know where your priorities lie,” Justin said quietly as Finlay began to awaken. He reached down and carefully lifted the groggy little boy onto his lap.

“And where exactly do yours lie?” Maggie demanded. “Because they sure don’t seem to lie with your family!”

“I’m not going to fight with you,” Justin replied, gently tugging down the little white shirt that had crept up, exposing Finlay’s creamy skin, “because this really isn’t the time or the place for it.”

“I just find it interesting that you wanted nothing to do with this family until Gran’s death, when it became apparent there was something in it for you. And now you get her _house!”_

“Maggie, be quiet and sit down!” her father demanded, glaring at her. “If your grandmother wanted her home to go to Brian and Justin, then we should trust that she knew what she was doing in giving it to them.” Standing, he walked over to them and handed the envelopes containing the deeds to Brian.

***

Two hours later, the remainder of the family having left after claiming that which had been left to them, Jennifer, Brian, and Justin gathered in the living room munching on leftovers and quietly talking while Molly sat on the floor and played with her nephew. Suddenly Justin stood and walked hurriedly out of the room.

Jennifer watched his retreating form, then turned to Brian. “Aren’t you going after him?”

“He needs some time alone.”

“But--.”

“Trust me, okay? He’s been holding everything in all day, making nice with relatives who he knows don’t give a shit about him or Finlay, who see him as standing in their way in their quest for Inga’s money, so he deserves a few minutes alone to break down and deal with it.”

“They care about him--.”

“Don’t fool yourself.” Brian stood and wandered over to the bay window that looked out upon the large front yard. “If they could have fought us inheriting all of this, then they would have. And she knew that. That’s why she made sure it was a solid contract, that it couldn’t be disputed.”

“Did she tell you she was planning all of this?”

“No.” He shoved his hands into his pockets and turned to face his mother-in-law. “But I’m sure she’d been planning on leaving it to Justin all along.” He slipped out of his suit jacket, unsure of why he was still wearing it in the first place, then loosened his tie and pulled that off as well. He dropped the items onto the sofa, then quickly rolled up his shirtsleeves and dropped down onto the blanket beside Molly and Finlay.

***

Justin was sitting at the bottom of the large front staircase, his suit jacket draped over his knees, when Brian walked over and peered at him for a moment before sitting down beside him so closely that their shoulders touched.

“You okay?”

“Yeah. Sorry.”

“Don’t be. It’s been a tough day.”

“I just . . . want to forget it. And that’s . . . I shouldn’t be thinking like that.”

“Forgetting this day doesn’t mean forgetting your Gran,” Brian replied quietly, reaching over and linking his fingers with the younger man’s.

“I know.” He turned slightly, then leaned forward and pressed his forehead against his husband’s, allowing their breath to mingle. “Where’s Fin?”

“With your sister. They’re still playing.”

“Come on.” Justin quickly stood, pulling Brian up with him, and led the other man up the stairs to the master bedroom. Once inside, he closed the door, then backed the taller man up against it.

“Do you think this is wise?” Brian grinned down at him, fingers already at work on the buttons of the younger man’s shirt. “Whatever will your mother think?”

“She’s already seen us making love, you know.”

“What? When?”

“The night you agreed to adopt Finlay. She was coming upstairs, I guess she wanted to watch him sleep.”

“Fuck.”

“Not if you don’t get those pants off, Mr. Kinney.” He smiled, then leaned forward, his tongue tracing Brian’s lips before it delved inside, while his hands made quick work of the taller man’s belt buckle.


	6. Chapter Six

Justin leaned forward, his lips meeting Brian’s, his fingers tangling in the other man’s hair. He groaned quietly, then leaned back while maintaining his connection with the other man, until they were leaning against the wall. Justin pulled back slightly, nearly slamming his head into the wall, as Brian began to attack his neck.

“Jesus Christ! Are you two gonna fuck right here?” Deb screeched as she approached the booth, steaming pot of coffee in hand.

“I was starting to wonder about that myself,” Emmett remarked, raising an eyebrow as he looked at them from across the table.

“Sadly, no, we’re not,” Brian remarked, sitting back up and straightening his suit, while Justin did the same. “Though I understand our sex life was a topic of discussion at Babylon last week.” He arched a brow at Ted and Emmett, waiting for their response. “Thanks for that.”

“Fuck. What did Michael do?” Emmett asked, pushing his coffee cup out of the way and leaning forward.

“Take a wild guess,” Justin replied. “Speaking of Michael . . .”

“Hi, guys.”

“Michael. Hi, Ben.”

“Mind if we join you?” Michael asked, immediately scrunching himself into the booth beside Ted and Emmett while Ben grabbed a chair and placed it at the end of the table. “So, what’s everyone talking about?”

“Nothing,” Brian said quietly, signaling for more coffee. “What time is it?”

“8:45.”

“Why, got someplace you have to be?” Ted asked.

“Yeah, we’re meeting with our lawyer,” Justin remarked, ripping the corner off a slice of toast. “Time for the oh-so-fun task of combining our assets, wills, living wills, power of attorney . . . it’s going to take practically half the day to go over it all with Steve.”

“Wow, that’s uh . . . that’s a big step,” Ben remarked, glancing back and forth between the two men.

“Yeah, but it’s necessary. And we should have done it months ago.”

“I thought Mel was your lawyer?” Michael asked.

“I had my files sent to Justin’s lawyer. He’s one of the top guys in the state, and Mel understood that we needed to have the same lawyer.”

“Wouldn’t it have made more sense to stick with Mel? She’s family, and she’s been your lawyer for a long time,” Emmett asked.

“We wanted someone impartial. Besides, Steve did a great job with the adoption,” Justin remarked, picking at the large sugar-coated waffle that Debbie had placed before him.

“I still can’t believe you can get away with eating that shit.” Brian stared at Justin as he cut a large section from the waffle, then began cutting that section into smaller pieces.

“You probably could, too.”

“Well, that’s one experiment we’re not going to try. Besides, I spend enough time at the gym.”

“And yet you still manage to get lots of cardio in at home.”

“For which you should be grateful,” he replied with a smirk as Justin ate.

“I don’t have any complaints. A satisfying sex life is a very important part of every marriage.”

“Thank you, Dr. Drew.”

“Not that you’ll ever need such advice, Theodore,” Brian replied with a tongue-in-cheek grin.

“You know . . . Dr. Drew also emphasizes the importance of safe sex,” Michael supplied, narrowing his gaze at Brian and Justin as the remaining occupants of the booth became silent.

“As he should.” Brian stared at Michael for a moment, before continuing in his eerily-calm voice. “I’d imagine that his demographic is comprised mainly of young people who need to learn about protecting themselves.”

“Then maybe you should try listening to him sometime. Might learn a thing or two.”

“And maybe you should try listening when people talk to you, too, Michael.” Justin glared at the brown-eyed man, then set his fork down and devoted his full attention to the conversation.

“What’s going on?” Ben looked from his boyfriend to the young blond, then back again. “Michael?”

“Nothing. Nothing’s going on.”

“Not willing to share with the boyfriend, Mikey? Honesty’s a cornerstone of every good relationship.” Brian sighed dramatically, then turned his attention to Ben. “Michael felt the need to tell me that Justin and I couldn’t have sex without the presence of a condom. Because, you know, it’s not like we’re not both negative, honest with each other, and married.”

“And it was never any of your business,” Justin remarked, picking up his fork and beginning to cut up his waffle once again. “It was no one’s business.” He shifted his gaze back and forth between Ted and Emmett, then glanced at the clock over the register. “We should get going in a few minutes.” He stabbed a piece of the waffle and held it out to Brian. “Just try a piece.”

“No.”

“Please?”

“What do I get if I do?”

“Hm . . .” Leaning forward, Justin began placing light kisses against the side of Brian’s neck, then reached up and turned his head slightly, claiming his lips. After a moment he pulled away and continued the trail of kisses to Brian’s ear, where he whispered Brian’s potential prize.

“Fuck! Fine! Give me the fucking waffle!”

***

“So why are we meeting Steve here instead of at his office?” Justin asked, climbing out of the Jeep and slinging his bag over his shoulder. He walked with Brian the short distance from his parking space to the elevator leading from the parking garage to his office.

“They’re having all the offices re-painted this week.” He placed his hand on the small of Justin’s back and gently guided the younger man into the crowded elevator ahead of himself. “Besides, half the information we need is in my office. So did he say how long this will take?” he asked. Brian slung his left arm around Justin’s shoulders, and the younger man reached up with his left hand and entwined their fingers.

“No, just that he’d get everything finished as quickly as possible,” Justin replied, acutely aware that the majority of the occupants of the elevator had stopped talking and were, instead, listening intently to their conversation. 

“I just want this taken care of. I hate this kind of stuff.”

“Yeah, but we have to do it,” Justin replied, as the elevator stopped on Brian’s floor.

“Brian, do you have a minute?” Marty called from the entrance to his office.

“Um, yeah, sure.”

“I’ll be in your office,” Justin said quietly, a small smile decorating his lips as he let go of Brian’s hand and made his way down the hall.

“As you know,” Marty began, as Brian took a seat across from him, “we have a party every year to welcome the new clients and to thank those who’ve been with us during the previous year.”

“Of course.”

“I’m sure you’re also aware that, as a partner, your presence is required for the duration of the party. I know in the past you’ve had a tendency to stay for an hour or so and then leave.”

“Yes, Marty, I’m well aware of that fact.”

“Good.” The older man leaned forward and handed an ornately decorated card to the other man. “Then I’m sure I’ll see you there.”

“So . . . what would you think of coming to a horribly boring office party with me?” Brian asked a few minutes later as he removed his coat and hung it on the rack in his office. He turned and looked at Justin, who was sitting on the sofa and sketching.

“Seriously?”

“Spouses are encouraged to attend, apparently.” Brian sighed and dropped onto the sofa, twisting around until his head rested in his husband’s lap in place of the recently abandoned sketchbook.

“Okay.” He ran his fingers through Brian’s carefully styled hair. “Brian?”

“Hm?”

“How many people know we’re married?”

“Why?”

“It’s just . . . the people in the elevator seemed to have no clue who I was or why I was with you. I mean, it’s not like there should have been some sort of grand proclamation or something . . . I just wondered.”

“I told Cynthia, Marty, and Joe, you know, the security guard. And I figured the rest would figure it out on their own. They see me every day, they see the ring . . . I’m sure they’ve figured it out. But I’ve never liked broadcasting my personal life at work. I just . . . like the separation of spheres, you know?”

“Yeah. But, if that’s the case, why are you inviting me to this party?”

“Because I’m not hiding the fact that we’re married. It’s a party to thank current clients and introduce them to new and potential clients, and spouses are always invited. You’re mine, and I’d like you to come.” He paused for a moment, then grinned. “If nothing else, your presence will keep me from wanting to gouge my eyes out.”

“Well, that’s always a good reason.” Justin grinned, then leaned over and kissed him soundly as Cynthia stepped into the office and cleared her throat. 

“You two are so cute.” She grinned at Brian as he stood and straightened his suit. “Your lawyer is here.”

“Thanks. Send him in.” He grabbed Justin’s hand and pulled the younger man to his feet, deftly catching him and placing one final kiss on his lips as Steve stepped into the office.

***

“So, we’ve got both of your wills, living wills, and powers of attorney in this folder here,” Steve said, handing Brian a thick folder. “And this would be everything else. The loft, the house outside of Chicago, income, stocks, retirement, pensions, vehicles, bank accounts, trust funds . . . you get the idea. Now, as soon as you get all of this signed and back to me we can officially get things started. Call my office and we’ll set up a follow-up meeting.” He packed up his briefcase and stood, making his way past Cynthia as she stepped into the office.

“Brian? You have a meeting in the conference room in twenty minutes. The Lennex account. Everything you need is in there. And you have a meeting with Jim Halford to discuss the boards for Optimetrics at noon.”

“Thanks, Cyn.” He waited until she closed the door, then turned back to Justin. “Do you have anything planned for today?” He reached around the younger man and dropped the legal files onto his desk.

“Hm, well, from the looks of it I’ll be starting in on some of the paperwork.”

“Um, do you wanna stay here and do it? Maybe I can answer some questions or something. And I could take a look at some of it during lunch. I have a few meetings today, but we could make a little bit of a dent in it.”

“Sounds good.” He planted a quick kiss on Brian’s lips, then watched as the older man left his office, leaving the door open as he went. With a loud sigh, he stepped around his husband’s desk and settled into his comfortable leather chair. If he had to spend the day going through all of these papers, he might as well make good use of Brian’s chair.

An hour and a half later Brian was still at his meeting and Justin was still wading through the mound of legal documents Steve had left them when he heard a light tap on the door leading into the outer office of Brian’s suite. Looking up, he found his attention focused on a nervous-looking man with short red hair. In his hands was a stack of black foamcore boards.

“Oh, um, I’m sorry. Cynthia’s not at her desk, and the door was open . . .”

“That’s okay. Come on in. Are you Jim?” At the man’s nod he continued. “Have a seat. Brian and Cynthia are in a meeting, but they’ve been in there a while, so I’m assuming they’ll be done soon.” He grinned at the slightly older man as he slowly sank into a chair across from Brian’s desk, then set the foamcore boards so that they leaned against the desk. “I’ve kind of taken over Brian’s desk until his meeting’s over. I’m Justin, by the way.” He leaned across the desk a bit and shook the other man’s hand.

“Jim. But you already knew that.” He gazed around the office for a moment, before his eyes settled on the papers spread out before the younger man. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen you here before.”

“I stop by every once in a while. Not very often.” He glanced in the direction of the boards. “So you work in the art department?”

“Yeah. Just started a couple months ago.” He let out a loud breath, then gazed around some more. “It’s very . . . stark in here.”

“Yeah,” Justin replied with a chuckle, signing his name and then flipping to another paper in the massive stack. “Give me a couple months, I’ll get this place looking less stark.”

“Oh?”

“Yeah, Brian’s asked me to do some paintings for him. Hopefully I’ll get them finished soon.”

“So you’re an artist?”

“Sort of. Aspiring artist, I guess. I haven’t, like, had any formal training or anything. But I’m going to PIFA in the fall, so that’ll take care of that.” He grinned, then scanned the first paragraph of the contract set before him as Brian’s phone began to ring. He looked up and scanned the display before answering it, much to Jim’s surprise.

“Um . . . is that a good idea?” he whispered, as Justin nodded his response.

“Hi, Lindsay, it’s Justin.”

“Oh, hi. What’re you doing answering Brian’s office phone?”

“He’s in a meeting. And we had to meet with Steve. Do you need him specifically or is there something I can help you with?” Justin balanced the phone between his shoulder and ear as he flipped to another page of the contract.

“Actually, I was wondering if you and Brian could watch Gus for a few hours. Mel and I have a meeting at the GLC that we can’t get out of and our regular sitter cancelled on us at the last minute.”

“I’m sure that’ll be fine. What time?” He opened the top drawer of Brian’s desk, immediately locating a Post-It, trying not to laugh at the look of horror that had spread over Jim’s face.

“Um, the meeting starts at seven, so six-thirty?”

“Sounds good.”

“Are you sure Brian will be okay with this?”

“Yes, Lindsay, I’m sure,” he replied, rolling his eyes. “I’ll see you later.”

“Thanks again.”

“Not a problem.” He hung up the phone, then looked at Jim, a small smile on his face. “Relax, Jim, everything’s fine. Brian won’t care that I answered his phone.”

“It’s just, um . . . I’ve heard he’s kind of . . . difficult.”

“He’s not so bad,” Justin remarked with a grin, briefly glancing at his ring. “He just takes some getting used to. He’s just strong-minded. Like, he usually knows exactly what he wants, and how to get it.”

“You sound like you know him really well.”

“Yes, well, believe it or not, Brian is my husband.” Justin looked up and smiled, his smile growing wider as Brian stepped into his office.

“Talking about me again? Hi, Jim.”

“Oh, um, hi, Mr. Kinney,” the other man replied nervously, then immediately cleared his throat.

“I was just telling Jim that your reputation for being difficult is a tad over exaggerated.” Justin grinned, then stood and began stuffing the papers into their folders. “Now I’ll get out of your way a bit so you can have your meeting.”

“I thought you were gonna stay and work on this stuff?”

“Surely you want something to eat,” Justin remarked, stepping around the desk, folders tucked into the bend of his left elbow. “I’ll just run to the diner and get something to bring back.”

“Well, at least take the Jeep.” He retrieved his keys from his pocket and dropped them into Justin’s outstretched palm. “Get me a salad, okay?”

“Of course,” Justin replied with a grin, leaning forward and placing a light kiss on the taller man’s lips.

“You are such a twat.”

“Hm . . . wait til the guys find out you married a twat. I think they’ll be surprised at your sudden change in preferences.” He turned and grinned at the man who sat silently observing them. “It was nice meeting you, Jim.” Then he placed one final kiss on Brian’s lips before turning and exiting the office.

***

It had been ages since Justin had had an excuse to buy expensive clothing. After Finlay’s conception and his marriage to Shannon, there was just no way he could afford the type of clothing he had been accustomed to. And there definitely hadn’t been a need for something as superfluous as a suit from Hugo Boss. So he’d resigned himself to jeans and shirts from the Big Q and saved what he could for his small, but growing, family.

“You like it?” Daphne asked as Justin ran his fingertips over the cuff of a suit jacket. She pushed the stroller gently back and forth, rocking Finlay as he slept.

“Yeah, it’s all right,” he replied quietly, looking up and gazing around the store some more. “God, the last time I got a suit my mother helped pick it out.” He wandered over to another rack and studied a light gray suit. “It was for my cousin Robyn’s wedding. Actually, that’s what I wore when I married Finlay’s mom, too.”

“What’d you wear when you married Brian?”

“Faded jeans and a blue sweater.” He smiled slightly as he peered at the pale blue lining of the suit. “But I didn’t care. It wasn’t like it was about what we wore. With Shannon . . . we really didn’t have any desire to get married, it was basically just a show for her family, so we dressed the part and said the vows. And we stuck by them. But with Brian . . . it was totally different. And it just didn’t matter what we were dressed like, because it was just for us, not anyone else.”

“Excuse me.” The teens looked to their left, only to find an impeccably-dressed man at their side. He regarded them coolly, his eyes resembling shards of coal. “Is there anything I can help you with today?” His eyes shifted toward Finlay for a moment, then back to Justin.

“Actually, yes.” He slid his hands into his coat pockets and looked the man in the eye. “I need a suit, though not a black one. Gray, maybe, or blue. And a shirt and tie to go with it.”

“Is there a specific event you’re planning to attend?” the man asked, turning and gesturing for them to follow him.

“My husband’s company is having a party for some clients. So I just need something classic, understated. Something that won’t clash with what he’s wearing. He’s opted for a black Armani with a white shirt and black tie.”

“Oh. Well, what about this gray one?”

Ten minutes later Justin stepped out of the dressing room wearing the medium-gray suit. He looked in the three way mirror, noting that the sleeves needed to be shortened slightly and the legs needed to be tailored because, while the trousers fit his hips just right, they were too baggy in the legs. With the suit he wore a white shirt and a sapphire blue tie that made his eyes look brighter than usual.

“What do you think?” he asked, turning and facing Daphne as she sat in an overstuffed chair just outside the dressing room.

“Well, it’ll definitely need some tailoring,” she replied with a small smile. “But it looks good.”

“I just don’t want to draw too much attention to myself, you know? Because it’s Brian’s night, not mine.”

“Well, I hate to be the bearer of bad news, but when a company partner attends a business party with his teenage husband, people are going to notice.”

“Yeah, I know.” He turned and studied his image in the mirror once again. “Not many people know he’s even married.”

“What? Why the hell not?”

“He doesn’t really talk about his personal life at work. And that makes perfect sense, really. He has this hard-assed image at the office. He doesn’t want his employees to know too much about his personal life, because that takes away some of the mystique surrounding his image. Marty is the same way, I guess. A lot of people are like that when they get to be upper management. Anyway, it’s like he said . . . they’d have to be idiots not to have noticed his ring. And, judging from the guy I met from the art department the other day, I can safely say, no one would ask him about it if they did notice.” He tugged on the sleeves one more time. “So, seriously, what do you think?”

***

Justin was in his studio, working on a piece for Brian’s office while Finlay took his afternoon nap, when the doorbell rang. He quickly set down his paintbrush, wiped his hands on a rag, and made his way to the intercom.

“Yes?”

“Justin? It’s Paul. Your mother gave me your address . . . hope you don’t mind.”

“Um, yeah, come on up. Second floor.” He pressed the button to release the lock, then made his way downstairs to the first level of his home. He gazed around for a moment. The place was impeccable, as always, thanks to Brian’s obsessive neatness and Justin’s daily vacuuming and dusting.

“So what are you doing in Pittsburgh?” Justin asked a little while later as he led Paul into the kitchen and retrieved two bottles of water from the refrigerator.

“I’ve decided to give art school a shot,” the other man replied with a lopsided grin. “After we ran into each other in Chicago I just started thinking about it and came to the conclusion that I’d always loved art, and it’d be crazy of me to totally abandon it. So, I decided I might as well come here and check out PIFA.”

“Oh! I got in, by the way.”

“Yeah, your mother mentioned that. Congrats.”

“Thanks.” Justin grinned as he regarded his friend. “So what else did my mother tell you?”

“Not a whole lot. She was on her way out the door when I called.”

“Yeah, she’s pretty busy lately. She just got her real estate license so she’s still trying to prove herself at her agency.” He set his empty water bottle down, then nodded his head toward the hallway leading to the living room. “Come on, I’ll show you my art studio.”

“You have an art studio?” he asked as they began climbing the stairs.

“Yeah. Well, it’s half my art studio and half Brian’s office.”

“You’ve really settled down.” Paul gazed around the second floor living room as Justin began guiding him toward the studio. “I kind of expected you to go wild for a few years. You know, hit the club scene. Party. Just . . . do the unexpected.”

“Well, just because I didn’t totally dive into the clubs like I always said I would, doesn’t mean I didn’t do the unexpected. Brian and I still go to the clubs sometimes. He was such a club boy before we met. And when we’re in the mood for it, we hit the clubs and the bars.” He opened the studio door and led the other man inside. “So this is the studio. Course, Brian’s stuff is over there.”

“So what do you do when you both want to work in here?”

“For the most part it’s not a problem. Sometimes we just put the screens up,” he replied, gesturing to the screens folded against the opposite wall. “Right now I’m working on some stuff for Brian’s office.”

“Cool.” He stepped around the easel and carefully regarded the man’s painting. “So you’re into abstract art now?”

“I’ve been experimenting a little. Incorporating computer graphics into things. I’m sure I’ll probably do that with this one as well. And that would work well in his office, sort of tie into the whole advertising angle.” He crossed his arms over his chest and stared at the painting for a moment, squinting as he regarded the work before him.

“Nice,” he replied, gazing around the spacious room, taking in the various pieces of Justin’s work that decorated the walls. “So, how long have you and Brian been together?”

“Um, we’ve known each other for nine months,” Justin remarked, dipping his soiled brushes into a can of solvent, then swirling them until they were clean enough to rinse. “But we’ve been living together for five, and we’ve been married for four.” He turned on the faucet over the large sink in the corner and quickly rinsed the brushes, then switched the water off and placed them, upside down, in another jar so they could dry.

“What?” Paul crossed the room, his hands shoved into his pockets, as he studied the other man.

“Brian and I got married.” Justin turned and crossed his arms over the Che Guevara tee shirt he was wearing. “It was sudden, but it was something we both wanted, so we just did it.”

“You’re so fucking insane.” Paul grinned. “Still, he’s gorgeous, so I guess I can’t blame you. Though I can’t imagine being tied down at eighteen. I mean, Christ! I’m almost twenty, and marriage isn’t something I even remotely think about. It’s just too . . . hetero. It’s right up there with having kids.”

“Well, we have those, too.” The blond thrust his shoulders back slightly and straightened his stance, his blue eyes drilling into his friend. “Two sons. Finlay and Gus.”

“You’re full of shit!” Paul exclaimed with a laugh. “No way. No fucking way! Your mother would have said something . . .”

“She wasn’t crazy about my impending fatherhood when she found out. She’s still getting used to it.” He led the other man out of the studio and back downstairs to the main living room. “Molly likes being an aunt, though. She’s taken right to both of the boys.”

“So where are these kids of yours?”

“Finlay’s down for his afternoon nap, and Gus lives with his moms a few streets away.” He sank onto the couch and groaned.

“Christ!” Paul dropped into the chair across from the sofa. “Eric and Andrew will shit themselves when they hear about this.”

“Don’t care,” Justin replied, looking down and studying his ring for a moment. “I know they were like family to me when I was still figuring out who I was, but I haven’t talked to them in two years.”

“Well, you’re not missing much.” Paul leaned forward, his elbows resting on his jean-clad knees as he studied Justin. “You seem different.”

“How so?” He swung his legs up onto the sofa and yawned. Gus had spent the previous night with them and had kept him up half the night. While the boy was in the habit of sleeping most of the night while with his mothers’, he was still adjusting to spending time at his fathers’ house and, consequently, spent much of the night crying.

“I don’t know. It’s hard to pinpoint,” he replied, his gaze falling to the ring that adorned Justin’s left ring finger as his hand rested against the red fabric of his shirt. “Fuck! I still can’t believe all of this!”

“It’s not that hard to believe,” he replied.

“What happened to wanting to spend your twenties fucking around?”

“Things changed. Seriously, having kids changes everything. I know that’s clichéd and overused, but it’s true. I mean, I couldn’t just think about myself, you know? Cause I had this tiny little defenseless person relying on me for everything. And it was terrifying . . . I was so scared that I’d do something wrong and he’d get hurt . . .”

“Where’s his mom?”

“She’s dead. Car accident when she was eight months pregnant.” He smiled slightly and looked over at Paul. “She would have loved him so much. She already did. Anyway,” he said, exhaling loudly, “Brian’s the one I want, the one I want as my son’s other father.”

“Is he willing to do that? I mean--.”

“He was already Fin’s dad before we ever got married. When I was in the hospital he took over caring for him, even though at that point he didn’t even know about him. And he’s loved him ever since.” He looked over at the other man and grinned. “Anyway, enough of this serious shit. Brian’s working late . . . business dinner of some kind . . . wanna order out and watch tv and catch up on everything?”

“Sounds good.”

“Here.” He tossed him the phone. “The menus are in the kitchen, in the drawer next to the fridge. Order whatever, my treat. Just give them the number, they’ll have the info in the computer. I’m just going to get Finlay up. Otherwise he’ll be awake all night.” He swung his legs over the side of the sofa and stood, then made his way toward the stairs, stifling another yawn as he did so. “Oh, um.” He turned around at the base of the stairs. “Order something low-carb for Brian, just in case.” Then he ran a hand through his hair and hurried upstairs.

***

“Holy shit!” Paul exclaimed, looking over from where he stood by the windows as Justin reappeared downstairs, Finlay held securely against his chest. “You really do have a kid.”

“What, you thought I was kidding?”

“I don’t know.” The slightly older man blushed slightly. “I just . . . I don’t know. I can’t fucking believe you have a kid.”

“Two kids.”

“Well, the other one’s Brian’s, right?”

“Biologically,” Justin replied, turning and heading toward the kitchen, Paul following behind him. “But he’s still our son.”

“So, if Brian adopted your kid, then are you going to adopt his?”

“No. Brian doesn’t have any rights to Gus, really. He signed them over to Gus’s other mom shortly after he was born. I don’t know, I might have been able to talk him out of it, but we weren’t together then. Anyway, after we sorted things out with Gus’s mothers, they haven’t really had any objections to us spending time with him. It gives them some time to themselves, and gives us a chance to spend time with Gus.” He opened the refrigerator and pulled out a bottle of apple juice. Setting that on the counter, he reached for a sippy cup and, using one hand, twisted the cap off the juice and began filling the cup.

“Daddy?”

“Yes?”

“Where Papa?”

“At work.”

“Why?”

“Because he has an important meeting tonight.” He snapped the cover onto the cup, then handed it to the little boy. 

“Who dat?” Finlay asked, twisting around and gazing at Paul as the taller man leaned against the edge of the table.

“That’s my friend Paul.”

“Where Gu?”

“Gus is with his moms.”

“Where Neenee?”

“Is he always like this?”

“Caw Papa?”

“He might be in a meeting,” Justin replied, reaching for the phone and quickly dialing Brian’s number. Tucking the phone between his shoulder and his left ear, he leaned over and carefully set Finlay on the floor, not at all surprised when the little boy decided to sit at his feet, his attention focused solely on his sippy cup.

***

Brian sat in the back of the limo, Anderson Crawford and his daughter Melissa sitting across from him. Every so often he’d catch the young woman aiming a slight smile in his direction, to which he’s politely smile back, then resume gazing out the window at the driver maneuvered the sleek black vehicle through downtown Pittsburgh. He shifted his gaze again as the cell phone in his coat pocket began to vibrate. He quickly gazed at the display, then looked over at Anderson. “Do you mind?”

“Not at all,” the older man replied with a small smile, as his daughter narrowed her eyes slightly.

“Everything okay?” Brian asked quietly, open phone pressed against his ear and his gaze focused on the passing scenery once again.

“Yeah. I didn’t interrupt your meeting, did I?”

“No, we’re in the car. Should be at the restaurant in a few minutes, though.”

“Ah, okay. Well, I won’t keep you. Fin wanted to say hi.”

“Yeah, I looked in on him before I left this morning. I should be home before he goes to sleep.”

“Okay. Let me put him on the phone.” Brian listened as the phone was jostled, then as Justin instructed the little boy to say something. When it became clear that Justin’s urging wasn’t going to get the boy to speak, Brian let out a soft laugh. “Hi Fin.”

“Papa! Daddy, is Papa!”

“I know, Fin,” Justin remarked in the background.

“Papa? Where?”

“Work.”

“Bo’s?”

“Yes, so you can have boats. I’ll get you one this weekend,” Brian replied with a laugh as Justin asked Finlay to hand the phone back to him. 

“You’re so spoiling him.”

“Who am I to begrudge our son toy boats? Anyway, they distract him long enough to actually get his bath finished without getting soaked.”

“Uh huh.”

“Anyway, I should be home in time to deal with that tonight.”

“You don’t have to.”

“I want to.”

“Okay. Oh, Paul stopped by. He flew in from Chicago to check out PIFA and my mother gave him our address.”

“That’s fine. I’ll see you in a little while.”

“Love you.”

“Later.” Brian snapped his phone shut, then slid it into his pocket as he offered father and daughter a small smile.

***

Brian leaned forward and picked up his glass of whiskey, drinking a small amount. If there was one thing his father had taught him, aside from how to take a punch, it was how to drink a “man’s” drink. He gazed at the ice in the bottom of the glass, then set it down once again.

“So, Brian, tell me a bit about yourself,” Melissa asked, leaning forward slightly, ignoring the slight frown that came to decorate her father’s face.

“There’s not much to tell,” he replied quietly, twisting the ring on his finger and offering the woman and her father a slight smile.

“I see you’re married.”

“Yes.”

“Mind my asking how long?” Anderson enquired.

“Almost four months.” Brian reached up and straightened his tie slightly.

“So you’re still a newlywed!” the old man chuckled, signaling the waiter to pour another glass of wine. “Tell me . . . where did you go on your honeymoon? My first wife insisted on Paris, my second wife insisted on Hawaii, and my third wife demanded the Greek Isles.”

“It was sudden, so we haven’t had a chance yet. Hopefully this summer,” he remarked, shaking his head slightly at the waiter’s raised eyebrows and nearly imperceptible tilt of his head in the direction of the men’s room. “Probably Italy. Or maybe Amsterdam.”

“Amsterdam? That’s an interesting choice.” Melissa leaned forward slightly. “I don’t believe that would be at the top of my list. It’s not very . . . romantic. Are you sure your wife would want to go there?”

Brian smiled, then leaned back in his chair once again. “I don’t have a wife.”

“But you just said you were married.” Anderson set his fork down, his gaze narrowing as he focused on the younger man his daughter was so obviously infatuated with.

“I know. So confusing.” He shook his head slightly, then offered a smirk to father and daughter. “My husband’s an artist. So I’m sure he’d enjoy Amsterdam. But, as I’ve said, we haven’t really talked about it.” Brian studied his clients for a moment, then became serious. “Now, we’re here to discuss the Trilliam account. So why don’t we get started?”

***

“Oh, he’s hot,” Paul remarked, gesturing toward one of the guys on the Real World.

“In what universe?” Justin asked, reaching down and brushing Finlay’s blond locks from his forehead, then pressing a light kiss to his sleeping son’s forehead. Then he gazed at the clock on the dvd player, noting that it was nearly nine o’clock.

“In most universes,” Paul replied.

“He’s an idiot.”

“Don’t care. He’s hot. Besides, it’s not like he’d be talking much. His mouth would be otherwise occupied.”

“Well, eventually you’d have to take your dick out of it, and then he’d start talking and you’d realize what an idiot he is.” Justin peered down at Finlay again, then turned so that he was lying on the sofa, Finlay asleep on his chest in his little blue pajamas. He ran his hand lightly over the little boy’s back, studying him as he slept.

“Does Brian always work this late?”

“Hm? No. Once in a while. He’s a workaholic, and I like that about him. You know, his drive and focus. And he’s one of the partners at the agency, so he has to put in a lot of time. Fortunately, I understand that.”

“But you still want him to come home and fuck you senseless.”

“You’ve seen him, so I’d think that would go without saying.” 

“So what’s the story with the two of you?” Paul clicked off the tv, then set the remote down before once again studying Justin as the other man gently rubbed his son’s back as the child continued to sleep.

“We met outside a club the night his son was born. He took me to the hospital with him and let me hold the baby. God, it was so different than when Finlay was born. There were so many people there, Gus’s moms and their friends, and Brian . . . the room was packed . . . and everyone was so happy. It was great.” He looked back at Finlay as the little boy shifted slightly. “Anyway, I held Gus and asked him what he wanted to be named. And he picked one.” He gazed back over at his friend, taking in his look of disbelief. “He did. Anyway, we said our goodbyes and came back here.”

“And he fucked you senseless.”

“Oh yeah. And gave me college advice over coffee the next morning.” Justin grinned at the memory. “Anyway, we got to be friends. There were benefits, of course. But we hung out, went to a show, just did stuff together. Really got to know each other. I think that’s when I really started to love him. Because all anyone ever saw in him was sex . . . he was, like, this sex god or something . . . everyone wanted him just for that . . . but hardly anyone knew who he really was. Most people still don’t.” He sighed, then studied his ring for a moment. “So, he didn’t know about Finlay. At first I didn’t want to scare him off. And then I just didn’t know how to tell him. Then one day I was sitting in my apartment doing my homework and I heard Finlay say, ‘Da.’ His very first word. And I couldn’t share it with Brian because he didn’t know I had a son, and he’d always thought he’d be a horrible father . . . so I broke up with him.”

“Shit.”

“Yeah. So a few weeks went by, I went to school, work, took care of Fin like I always had. And my 18th birthday came along. I just . . . was so tired of being alone. So I had my friend Daphne watch Finlay, and I ended up at Woody’s. Got totally shitfaced. Managed to get my pathetic drunken ass to Brian’s. And even though I was totally out of it, we decided to give it another shot. And then I basically passed out.”

“Never could hold your liquor.”

“Yeah. So, anyway, I woke up and realized that I’d been there most of the night, so I called Daphne and told her I’d be home as soon as I could, because she had school the next morning. And I left the loft, was walking down the street, and was attacked.”

“What?”

“Yeah, this guy I worked with . . . he kept asking he out and I kept turning him down. Anyway, fucking almost died. But I’d given Brian temporary custody of Fin in the event something happened to me. Fin and Brian met while I was in surgery.”

“Shit! You just signed him over?”

“I trusted Brian to do the right thing. To take care of him. And he did. He’s been Finlay’s father ever since.”

“So how the fuck did you end up married?”

“Well, I guess we were sort of engaged. That’s what these were for.” He tapped the silver band encircling his wrist. “But a couple of days before Christmas I was having a hard time finding something for him. I mean, he’s got everything. . . . Anyway, we hadn’t gotten anything for Gus’s moms yet, so we ended up in a jewelry store and while I was looking for something for them, he’d zeroed in on our rings. It kind of snowballed from there and we got married an hour later,” he replied as the front door opened and Brian stepped inside, his coat over one arm and his tie loosened.

The older man unceremoniously dropped his coat and briefcase on an empty chair, then shrugged off his suit jacket and added it to the pile. “Do you have any idea how excruciating it is being hit on all night by a thirty year old nympho in front of her father? After making it abundantly clear that one, I’m married and two, pussy doesn’t do it for me?” He nodded to Paul in acknowledgment.

“I can’t even begin to imagine,” Justin replied as Brian stepped closer. He smiled slightly, then reached up and grasped the older man’s tie, pulling him down until Brian dropped to his knees beside the sofa, their faces mere inches apart. “Fortunately, you get to come home to an eighteen year old nympho.” He slid his hand to the back of Brian’s neck and pulled him into a long kiss. As Brian leaned against him, he allowed his hand to slide along Brian’s neck to his face, his fingers splaying along the older man’s cheek. 

“Papa?”

Brian slowly ended the kiss, then turned his head slightly, his hazel eyes meeting the tired blue ones of his son. “Hey Sonnyboy.” He pressed a kiss to the child’s forehead. “You should be asleep, it’s way past your bedtime.” He rested his head against Justin’s chest, just inches from Finlay’s, and studied the little boy as he fought a losing battle to keep his eyes open. As Finlay drifted off again, Brian returned his gaze to his husband. “I’ll take him upstairs and put him in his crib. Join me in the shower?”

“Definitely.”

Brian placed a light kiss against Justin’s lips, then stood and carefully lifted his son from his husband’s chest. He cradled the sleeping boy against his shoulder and gently rubbed his back. After a moment his gaze shifted to Paul. “Good seeing you again.” Then he turned and made his way toward the stairs.

“That’s my cue to go,” Paul remarked with a smile as he and Justin stood. “I’m glad we could hang out, though. And, though I never thought I’d say this to you, your son is beautiful.”

“Thanks.” Justin smiled, then leaned forward and quickly hugged his friend before walking him to the door. “So when are you heading back?”

“Tomorrow.”

“Well, feel free to call anytime, okay? Cause, honestly, I’ve missed you, too, and I need more friends my own age.” He smiled as he opened the door.

“Definitely. Now go get some.” With one final grin, Paul turned and headed for the stairs, his boots clunking heavily on the stairs as he made his way toward street level. Justin stood at the door until he could no longer hear the other man and then, with a smile of his own, stepped back and closed the door.


	7. Chapter Seven

Justin leaned into the warm spray of the shower, his hands finding their way to Brian’s jaw, guiding the taller man’s mouth to his, their lips meaning in a long, water-drenched kiss. After a moment he leaned back and licked a drop of water from Brian’s chin, then began trailing kisses down his chest.

“Mm, fuck!”

“Like that?” Justin chuckled, a smile decorating his lips, as he swiped his tongue across his husband’s left nipple, before making his way back to his lips.

“Yeah. Hurry up.”

“Pre-party sex . . .” Justin said quietly, his voice barely audible above the noise of the shower. “You wanna be fashionably late, anyway.” He smiled again, then pressed a kiss to Brian’s shoulder blade as the other man turned and braced himself against the shower wall.

***

Brian straightened his tie, then looked over his hair one last time before exiting the bathroom. Stopping in his tracks, he took in the sight of his husband, dressed in a medium-gray suit with a white shirt and sapphire tie, standing just inside the entrance to the sleeping area, checking out his reflection in the mirror on the closet door.

“So what do you think?” Justin asked quietly, catching Brian’s eye in the mirror.

“I think,” the taller man replied as he stepped forward and wrapped his arms around Justin from behind, “you look amazing.”

“I look too young, though.”

“Better too young than too old. But so what? You can hold your own with anyone, so don’t let them get to you, okay?” He turned the younger man around and kissed him soundly, his fingers finding their way into the soft locks at the back of his neck. “Let’s go so we can get this over with as quickly as possible.”

***

“You know,” Brian said as he and Justin walked toward the ballroom where the Ryder-Kinney client appreciation party was being held, “the company has dibs on the penthouse of the hotel.”

“And you’re telling me this because . . .?”

“Daphne said she could stay with Fin until tomorrow afternoon.” They stopped walking and leaned against the corridor wall. “Besides, I figure this is the closest you’ll get to a prom. Not that it’s the same or anything. I mean, there won’t be tons of teenagers milling about wearing puffy tulle dresses and ill-fitting suits. But I think we can work in something of a traditional prom night.”

“Meaning lots of hotel sex?”

“Uh huh.”

“Sounds like a plan.”

“Besides, having something to look forward to might make this party move along a bit faster.” He slipped his hand into Justin’s and began leading him down the hall again. “Might as well get this over with.”

“Um, yeah, I think I’m gonna need a drink,” Justin remarked as he stood just inside the ballroom, Brian as his side, surveying Brian’s employees as they cast curious glances in his direction.

“Me too.” He placed a hand on Justin’s back and carefully guided him toward the bar, then ordered two shots of Beam. He handed one to the blond, then quickly downed the amber liquid before setting his glass down, Justin’s empty glass quickly joining it. “Better?”

“Give it a few minutes,” he murmured, as Marty made his way over to them.

“Brian, a word please?” His gaze traveled from Brian to Justin and back again.

“Yes?”

“In private.”

“Um . . . I’m just gonna go say hi to Cynthia.”

“You don’t have to--.”

“It’s okay.” Justin leaned over and pressed a kiss to Brian’s jaw. “Come find me when you’re done.” Then he turned and nodded. “Marty.” Stepping around the middle-aged man, he made a beeline for Cynthia who was, at that moment, standing by a potted palm tree while being chatted up by a man she clearly had no interest in.

“What the fuck are you doing bringing him to an office function?” the older man demanded in a harsh whisper, leading Brian away from the bar and to a secluded corner of the room. “And giving him alcohol? He’s not even old enough to drink!”

“Christ, Marty, will you calm the fuck down? Did you honestly think I’d come here, schmooze the clients and their significant others, and leave him home?”

“He’s a child, Brian!”

“Like hell he is! I know he’s young – we’re both well aware of that fact, but like it or not, he and I are married—.”

“Not legally!”

“It would be legal if it could be! He is always going to be a part of my life, and if I want him to come to a fucking boring office party with me, and he’s willing to come, then he’ll be here. I’d never expect our clients to not bring their spouses or partners or significant others based on age or gender, and I find it sad and pathetic that you’d expect that of me.”

“You know some of our clients frown upon this sort of thing.”

“ ‘This sort of thing’ is a big part of who I am. You’ve known that practically since you hired me. And if you had a problem with it, then you should have hired someone else.”

“I don’t have a problem.”

“Only because I bring in the major accounts. You could care less if I was just a bit further down the totem pole.” He glanced across the room, taking note of Cynthia dragging Justin onto the dance floor as the younger man shook his head as he protested the dance the woman was forcing upon him. “Now, if you don’t mind, I’m going to go rescue him from Cynthia before she convinces him to father her child. God knows she’s tried that with every other man she’s met.”

“Seriously, Cynthia, I’m flattered, but two kids are enough right now,” Brian overheard Justin say as he approached the pair.

“Is my assistant begging you for your sperm?” Brian asked, carefully intercepting Justin and leaving Cynthia standing by herself. He turned the younger man in a slow circle until he was facing his assistant. “Cyn? Go find yourself a man and join the ranks of parenthood the old-fashioned way.”

“I suppose that would be more fun, anyway. Christ, I need a drink.”

“Brian?”

“Hm?” He turned his attention back to Justin and guided him effortlessly into a waltz to match the change in music.

“Have you ever danced with anyone at these company parties?”

“Nope.” The music slowed slightly, and Brian pressed himself somewhat closer to his husband. “Not even Cynthia, because I know better.”

“You knew she’d do that?”

“Uh huh.”

“Why didn’t you warn me?” He pinched the older man’s arm while grinning at him.

“Ow. Fucker.”

“So . . . shouldn’t you be mingling with your clients?” Justin reached up and ran the pad of his thumb lightly over Brian’s jaw, then let it slide to the back of the taller man’s neck.

“I suppose. But, you’re coming with me.”

“What? Why? Can’t I just hover by the bar?” Justin replied, as Brian placed a hand on the small of his back and led him away from the dance floor.

“No, you can’t hover. Just be a good little wife and help me get through this boring-ass party.”

“Fuck you,” Justin replied with a grin, bumping his shoulder into the taller man.

“Can you imagine how pissed Marty would be if that were to happen? Come on. That’s John Marshall,” he nodded his head in the direction of a middle-aged man chatting with one of Ryder-Kinney’s junior execs, “he’s VP of Thompson Automotive.”

“Seriously? Hm . . . that’s where I got the Honda.”

“Then you can charm him with your wonderful car-buying experience.”

***

“Brian! Good to see you, my boy!” Anderson Crawford bellowed as Brian and Justin neared him a short time later, having made the rounds of many of Brian’s most valued clients already.

“Anderson.” Brian nodded slightly at the woman standing at his side. “Melissa. Glad the two of you could make it.” He leaned sideways slightly as Justin’s hand came to rest on his back. “I hope you’re enjoying yourselves.”

“Very much so,” the woman replied with a slight nod. She smiled at him for a moment, then slowly shifted her gaze toward Justin, offering him a small smile but saying nothing.

“And who might this young man be?”

“Anderson, I’d like you to meet my husband, Justin Taylor.”

“Nice to meet you,” Justin replied, extending his hand to the older man. “Brian’s spoken of you often.”

“Has he?”

“Of course.” He turned his attention to Melissa. “It’s nice to meet you as well.” He briefly shook her hand and offered her a small smile.

“You, too.”

“So, Anderson, how’s life treating you?” Brian asked, his left hand resting lightly on the back of Justin’s neck.

“Good, good. The wife’s spending me out of house and home. Last week she bought a jag. What woman needs a jag to go shopping in, you know? But it makes her happy, so I can’t complain all that much, I guess.” He studied Justin for a moment. “You seem to be a man of discriminating tastes . . .”

“Excuse me.” Marty tapped the taller man on the shoulder, nodding slightly to Anderson and Melissa as the pair excused themselves. “Brian, I’d like to introduce you to someone.” He gestured toward a group a few feet away.

“Shit!” Justin exclaimed quietly.

“Brian, this is Craig Taylor, the CEO of Taylor Enterprises.”

“We’ve met.” Brian stared at his father-in-law, offering him a cool glare. “What are you doing here?”

“Believe me, if I’d known the two of you would be here, I would have saved myself the trip.” 

“Brian? What’s going on?” Marty watched the three men as they glared at each other. “How do you know each other?”

“He’s my father,” Justin replied quietly.

“You were supposed to clear the guest list with me, Marty.” Brian glared at his partner for a moment.

“So you’re still with him?” Craig asked his son, tilting his head in Brian’s direction. “He hasn’t gotten tired of you yet?”

“I’m not going to fight with you. Not here,” he replied as the phone in his inside suit pocket began vibrating. He quickly retrieved it and glanced at the display. “Excuse me, I have to take this.” He offered Brian an apologetic smile, then leaned up and pressed a quick kiss to his lips before wandering in the direction of a quiet corner.

“Do you really have to do that?” Craig asked, not caring that Marty was standing just to his side. “I didn’t come here to be embarrassed.”

“If you’re embarrassed, then that’s the result of your own hang-ups, not of our actions. And why _did_ you come here?”

“Shopping around for a new agency. Though, had I known this was _your_ agency, I wouldn’t have bothered.”

“You’re more than welcome to leave.”

“Brian!” Marty quickly turned to Craig. “Please don’t take Brian too seriously. He’s prone to making impulsive decisions. I can assure you, should you decide to go with us for your advertising needs, I will personally handle your account.”

“Marty, I’m afraid that’s out of the question.” Craig regarded Brian coolly. “I want nothing to do with this . . . pedophile.”

“Fucking excuse me?” Brian asked, glaring at the older man. “I think you should leave before I call security and have them escort you out.” He stared the other man down until Craig turned and walked quickly out of the room.

***

“You look so slutty spread out on the bed like that,” Justin remarked with a grin as he crawled up Brian’s naked body as the older man lay on the king-sized bed of their hotel suite.

“Mm, only for you, though.” Brian reached up and wove his fingers through the younger man’s hair, pulling him down for a kiss, his other hand skimming Justin’s back until his fingertips came in contact with the swell of Justin’s ass. He groaned and arched up as he continued to devour the man above him. Brian shifted slightly, then locked a leg around Justin’s waist. “Hurry up and fuck me.”

***

Brian rolled over, the early morning light awakening him as it streamed through the hotel’s windows. His gaze immediately landed on the shock of blond hair resting on the pillow beside him. Justin lay face down, the sheet having settled around his ankles during the course of the night, leaving his backside fully exposed. Brian smiled as he allowed his eyes to scan the younger man’s body. A few scratches marred his back, and some light bruises decorated his skin where Brian had gripped him during the course of their intense fucking. Leaning over, Brian pressed a light kiss to Justin’s shoulder, then let his lips trail over the scratches and bruises he’d left on the younger man.

“Mm, Brian.”

“Morning.”

“Too early.”

“It’s almost ten.”

“Don’t care. Tired.”

“Yeah, I see that.” He smiled, then slid down and began trailing kisses along the base of Justin’s spine. “I’m gonna run down the street and get us some breakfast. Go back to sleep, and I’ll wake you up when I get back.”

“ ‘Kay. Love you.”

***

Justin barely heard his cell phone ringing on the nightstand. He wasn’t sure how long he’d been asleep since Brian had roused him enough to tell him he was heading out to get them something to eat.

He reached up and grasped the phone, his eyes still closed against the bright sunlight invading the room. He flipped it open and pressed it to his ear, fully expecting to hear either Brian or Daphne on the other end.

“Hello?” His voice was raspy, so he swallowed a couple of times in an attempt to lose that particular sleep-induced quality.

“Yes. Is this Justin Taylor?”

“Yeah.” He cracked his eyes open, quickly pulling his phone away from his ear and glancing at the number on the display. He didn’t recognize it, nor did he recognize the voice of the woman on the other line. As he pushed himself into a seated position, his back against the headboard, he began to feel a hauntingly familiar sense of dread.

“I’m calling from Allegheny General. You’re listed as Brian Kinney’s contact and p.o.a.”

“Yeah.” His breath caught and his chest became impossibly constricted, as though a vice were being tightened around his heart. The organ beat rapidly, futily, against its enclosure, as it tried to escape this new reality. “What happened?” His eyes darted around the room until he spotted his pants where they had been left pooled on the floor just to the left of the bedroom door. He slid out of bed, the fog in his mind lifting as he made his way to the discarded pants.

“He was involved in a car accident.”

“Fuck!” He cradled the phone between his ear and shoulder, then pulled on his pants. “Fuck. Is he okay?”

“You really need to come to the hospital.”

“Shit. Yeah. Thanks.” He snapped the phone shut and jammed it into his pocket, then reached for the nearest shirt and thrust his arms into it, then pulled on his shoes, made sure he had his keys and wallet, and ran out of the room. He didn’t pause to button the shirt until he was in the elevator.

***

Justin ran through the emergency entrance of the hospital, weaving his way through the people milling about until he was able to get to the desk. He leaned heavily against it, his hands gripping the edge.

“Yes?” The nurse stared at him with a blank expression on her face.

“Brian Kinney? He was brought in a little while ago?”

“And you are?”

“His husband.”

“I’m sorry, we don’t--.”

“I have his p.o.a. so just tell me where he is.”

***

The doctor looked down at his chart, then returned his gaze to Justin. “Brian has several injuries, some more severe than others. First and foremost, he has a broken rib, the end of which has punctured his left lung. We’ll monitor his progress with regard to that, keep a close eye on him in case he needs surgery. He’s also got a broken arm that’s going to need to be surgically set, but we can’t do that until his lung is a bit better. And he has a mild concussion.”

“Will he be okay?”

“I’m going to be honest. It’s hard to say. But we’ll do our very best to make sure he makes a full recovery.” The doctor offered him a slight smile, then directed his attention back to the room in which Brian had been placed. “You can go see him for a few minutes if you like.”

Justin nodded, then slowly pushed open the door to Brian’s room. He paused just inside the door, his breath hitching as he took in Brian’s battered form. Taking small, short steps, he made his way over to Brian’s bedside, eyes scanning the tubes and wires keeping him tethered to various machines.

“Hi. It’s me,” he said quietly, leaning forward and placing a soft kiss first on the unconscious man’s forehead, and then on his lips. He reached down and threaded his fingers through Brian’s, careful not to snag any of the IV’s. “I love you. But you know that.” With his free hand he quickly wiped away a stray tear. “Fin’s with Daphne. I’m sure they’re having a great time. I still need to call everyone, though. I just . . . couldn’t. Not until I knew how you were.” He wiped away another tear, then leaned forward and kissed Brian again. “You’ll be okay, I know you will. You have to be.”

***

“Excuse me.” Justin stepped up to the nurse’s station and peered down at the young Asian woman sitting at the desk.

“Yes?”

“Brian Kinney . . . he’s in room 346 . . .”

“Yes?”

“When he was brought in he was wearing a silver bracelet and a platinum ring. I’d like to have them, please.”

“I’m sorry, we can’t--.”

“Please? He’s my husband, and I know that doesn’t mean a whole lot to anyone other than the two of us, but I would really like to hold onto his bracelet and ring. Look, I have the matching ones, so you know I’m not lying.” He pulled up the sleeve of the shirt he was wearing and showed his left wrist, noticing for the first time how long the sleeves were. “Please, I just need to have them with me.” A solitary tear made its way down his cheek. As he reached up to wipe it away with the cuff of his sleeve he noticed, and really became aware of, the scent of Brian’s cologne.

***

Justin stood by the window and stared at the darkened city outside, silent tears tracking down his cheeks. He closed his eyes, then leaned forward and rested his forehead against the cool glass, wishing Brian could come up behind him and enfold him in his arms, the way he often did when Justin found himself staring at the city skyline.

“Justin?”

He jumped slightly at the sound of his mother’s voice, so close behind him, as she rested her hand on his shoulder.

“What?”

“I’m . . . sorry.”

“Not your fault.”

“Not just about what’s happened with Brian. But . . . for not being there . . . when Shannon . . .”

“It’s not the same.” He opened his eyes for a moment, allowing the tears to escape, then immediately closed them again as he released a shuddering breath.

“I know.”

“No you don’t.” Justin turned and stared at his mother. “You weren’t there, so you _don’t_ know! This is _nothing_ like when Shannon died.” His eyes sparkled with both unshed tears and anger as he faced the older woman. “When I found out about Shannon’s accident I knew . . . I knew I would be okay just as long as our child survived. I knew I’d be devastated that she was gone, but not so much because of my losing her, but because of our child losing her. But I knew . . .” He turned again and leaned against the cool glass. “I can’t . . . If Brian . . . If anything ever happened to him . . .”

“Justin.” Jennifer’s voice, barely a whisper, cracked mid-word.

“He’s the one for me. I know that. There would never be anyone else.”

“You don’t know that.”

“Yes I do.” He let out a long, shuddering breath, creating a little patch of fog on the window. “It’s like . . . of course I’d go on, for Finlay and Gus . . . any other children we might have . . . but I’d never . . . I’d never be as happy as I’ve been with him. And I know . . . deep down I know . . . that I could never find someone who loves me as completely, as selflessly, as he does . . . and there’s no one else I could love like that, either.” He turned once again, the crossed the room and dropped onto the couch.

“Justin? Maybe you should try to sleep.”

“No.”

“You’re not going to do anyone any good if you’re exhausted.”

“I’m about a thousand miles past exhausted!” He rested his back against the arm of the couch, then drew his knees up to his chest and wrapped his arms around them, his head resting on his knees. “I need to be awake when the doctor tells us that Brian will be okay. And I need to be awake when Brian opens his eyes.”

“None of that is going to happen any faster if you refuse to sleep.”

“Fuck! I know that!”

“Then just . . . take a nap, Justin, please? I promise I’ll stay right here and wake you when the doctor comes.” She crossed the small room and sat beside him, reaching over and threading her fingers through his hair like she did when he was a child. “Justin, please?”

“Fuck. Fine. I’ll lay down, but I’m not promising anything,” he replied, his eyes already drifting shut, Brian’s wedding ring placed securely on his thumb and his bracelet clutched in his good hand.

***

They were dancing, nothing fancy, just another night at Babylon, Brian’s arms slung casually over Justin’s shoulders as he leaned forward to kiss the younger man, their bodies pressing together as they momentarily stopped swaying to the techno beat. They pulled apart briefly, then Justin leaned forward and kissed the older man again, his tongue tracing Brian’s lips before delving inside as he began moving again, back and forth, infusing Brian with the rhythm of the music once again.

But the movement became stronger, and in a split second Brian had disappeared and his mother was calling his name. He cracked open his eyes, glancing around for a moment and then, remembering where he was and why he was there, he swung his legs over the edge of the couch and stood. He swayed slightly, his mother’s hand on his back the only thing that kept him from toppling back onto the couch.

“Justin Taylor?”

“Huh?” Justin’s bleary eyes shifted toward the doorway, taking in the two gentlemen who stood there, one obviously a detective, clad as he was in an ill-fitting suit and burgundy tie, the other wearing a uniform.

“I’m Carl Horvath, Pittsburgh PD. I was hoping to ask you a few questions.”

“I don’t . . . I don’t really know much about what happened. Just that Brian was crossing the street and someone ran a red light.”

“We were fortunate in that a passing pedestrian was able to catch some of the incident on her camera phone.”

“Incident?”

“It appears the driver intentionally hit Mr. Kinney. The car accelerated as it went through the red light.” He paused for a moment. “Mr. Taylor, do you know if Mr. Kinney had any enemies?”

“What? No, none that I can think of. He’s generally pretty well-respected among his peers. Wait, if someone got a video of the accident, then why the hell aren’t you out apprehending the person who did this?” He crossed his arms over his chest as he narrowed his eyes and glared at the middle-aged detective.

“We’re doing our best. But that’s part of why we wanted to talk to you. The woman who took the video didn’t get the plates . . . though she said it was a rental. However, from the video we were able to obtain some very clear shots of the driver.” The detective looked down at the photo in his hand, then back up. “We were hoping you might have some idea who the man in the car is.” 

Justin looked down as the photo was passed to him, his right hand shaking as it was want to do these days when he was stressed. The car was a silver Mercedes which, for some bizarre reason, did not have tinted windows. He squinted slightly as he regarded the figure behind the wheel, then silently passed the photo to his mother.

“It’s my father. Craig Taylor.” He crossed his arms over his chest, steeling his jaw against the urge to launch into a profanity-laden tirade.

“Are you sure?”

“That’s him, all right,” Jennifer remarked, handing the picture back to Detective Horvath, then reaching up and pushing a chunk of hair behind her left ear. “I had no idea he was in Pittsburgh.”

“He was at the party last night.”

“What party?”

“Brian’s office party. We didn’t know he was going to be there. Brian’s business partner invited him without telling anyone.” He closed his eyes, then lightly pinched the bridge of his nose. “Brian wouldn’t have allowed my father into that party if he’d known.”

“So Brian and your father don’t get along?”

“No one gets along with Craig,” Jennifer muttered.

“They barely even know each other. They’ve met just one other time. I think it’s more because he has an issue with me.”

“Could you explain that, please?” 

“I’ve never done anything that he hasn’t taken issue with, seen as a personal affront. I’m the embarrassment of the family, so the fact that I was at a business party that he was invited to, among his colleagues, with the man I consider to be my husband . . .” He shrugged his shoulders, then turned toward the doorway as first Debbie, then Michael, Ben, Ted, and Emmett barreled their way in.

“What the hell happened? And why the fuck didn’t you call earlier? How fucking long has Brian been here?” Debbie screeched, pushing her way in front of the detectives and glaring at Justin. “We’re his family, we have a right to know what’s going on with him!”

“Don’t start, Debbie.” He turned his attention back to the detective. “He’ll have gone back to Chicago by now. I’m sure he has his lawyers on standby. If you don’t need anything else, I need to get out of here for a few minutes.”

“This is good. We’ll be in touch.”

“Thanks.” He nodded slightly, then turned and walked out of the room, combing his fingers through his hair as he did so. A couple minutes later he found himself standing on the hospital roof, a cigarette he had bummed from an orderly nestled between his fingers, its orange tip glowing brightly against the dark backdrop of night. Leaning over the edge, he placed the white stick between his lips and inhaled sharply, releasing the smoke in one long breath a moment later.

He heard the footsteps on the roof, but paid no attention, choosing instead to focus on the bright lights of the cars as they drove past, especially the bright red of the tail lights. People going places, clubs, bars, home to their families, just living . . . 

“Justin?” There was no mistaking the soft, almost imperceptible, Southern lilt to the voice that intruded upon his thoughts, giving name to the person whose footsteps he’d heard just moments earlier. “I’m sure everyone’s asking if you’re okay, and expecting you to say yes, so I won’t do that. But . . . I’m here if you need anything.”

“Probably need more cigarettes before the night is out,” he said quietly.

“Marlboro’s?”

“Yeah.”

“I’ll see what I can do. Have you eaten?” Emmett took another step closer, joining Justin at the ledge.

“No.”

“Probably should.”

“Later.” He flicked a piece of ash over the side of the building. “They’re all waiting for me to come back down, aren’t they?”

“They have questions.”

“I’m sure my mother can answer them.” He shook his head slightly. “Christ, I don’t even know why I called her first.”

“Cause she’s still your mom, even if you haven’t always gotten along.” Emmett offered him a sympathetic toothy smile.

***

“Fuck!” Justin exclaimed as he and Emmett exited the stairwell to find Brian being pushed out of his room. Picking up his pace, he rushed down the hallway until he was able to walk beside the gurney. “What’s going on? Where are you taking him?”

“We have to get him to surgery, Justin. His left lung has collapsed. I’ll send someone out to fill you in in a little while. But we have to get him into the OR _now,”_ the doctor remarked as they stopped at the elevator. Justin nodded silently, then leaned over and pressed a light kiss to Brian’s lips.

“I’ll be here when you get out. I love you,” he whispered, smoothing Brian’s hair away from his forehead as the elevator pinged. He stood, silent tears coursing down his cheeks, as the gurney was pushed into the elevator, and the elevator doors closed. Then, slowly, he walked a few feet until his back was against the hospital’s sterile wall, sliding down until he was sitting on the floor, his knees against his chest, his arms around his legs. He rolled his lips into his mouth and clenched his jaw, refusing to make a sound as the sobs wracked his body.


	8. Chapter Eight

Justin sighed and leaned back against the wall. He no longer shook, but the tears still flowed freely from his eyes, making silent tracks on his skin. He released a long, shuddering breath and was about to stand up when his eyes landed on two small feet. Looking up, he saw his sister standing over him. She studied him for a moment, then dropped down besides him, smoothing her corduroy skirt over her knees as she did so.

“How did you know I was here?”

“Emmett.” She offered him a slight smile. “I like him. He’s nice. But I like Brian better.” She reached over and brushed away one of his tears with her thumb. “He’s been good for you.” Molly leaned against him, her head resting on his shoulder, and stared at the wall opposite them. “When you’re a kid, people usually ignore you. It gives you a lot of time to notice things. I always knew you weren’t happy. I might have been a little kid, but I could tell. I just didn’t know why. And I could tell that you tried to hide it, that maybe you didn’t even know why you were so unhappy. Jus?” She looked up and studied him, her blue eyes peering into his identical ones.

“Hm?”

“You’re really happy with Brian, aren’t you? Like, not just content, but really, truly, happy.”

“That’s what it’s like when you love someone . . . when they love you. It’s like . . . you want the relationship to stay full of passion . . . and not turn into mere contentment.”

“Does that mean you and Brian have sex a lot?”

“Molly!” Justin exclaimed, beginning to laugh for the first time in days. “Christ! Yeah, that’s part of passion, too, I guess.”

“But how do guys do it?”

“Oh god, why are you asking me this?” He reached up and brushed away the tears that had made their way down his cheeks, this time brought on by laughter. “Wait a couple of years and then read a book on it or talk to Debbie or . . . fuck, I don’t know. But I’m not describing the . . . ins and outs,” he began laughing again, “of gay sex to you.”

“Well, if you’re not going to tell me, then would you at least stop laughing?”

“Sorry.”

“Brian wouldn’t laugh. I think he’d explain it to me.” She tilted her head and smiled. “When he’s feeling better, maybe I’ll ask him.”

“Go right ahead.” Justin sighed and pushed himself away from the wall, then stood and reached for his sister, pulling her up with him. “Come on, Mom’s probably worried. And I need to call Daph and check on Fin.” He wrapped his arm around the girl’s small shoulders and began walking back toward the waiting room.

***

Justin sighed and leaned back against the hard plastic chair he had pulled up to Brian’s hospital bed. Three days had passed since the older man had come out of emergency surgery and, while he was still listed in critical condition, Justin could tell he was getting better. His skin was less ashen, the blood finally starting to flow back into his cheeks and lips. 

Daphne had brought Finlay in to see him earlier that day. Her mother had taken to watching the little boy during the day while Daphne was at school, since there was no way his own mother could do it. He’d briefly considered asking Mel and Lindsay to watch him, but came to the conclusion that Finlay would be happier with Daphne and her mother, since he knew them better.

He slid the chair closer to the bed and entwined the fingers of his left hand with Brian’s, a slight smile coming to his lips at the newfound warmth of his husband’s skin. He lightly ran his thumb over Brian’s knuckles.

“Love you,” he whispered. He leaned over and pressed a kiss to Brian’s hand, then rested his head on the mattress, his eyes focused on Brian’s face as he began to drift asleep.

***

He felt something light and warm flutter against his forehead and, still asleep, burrowed against the mattress even more. Then the fluttering became more persistent, before he felt warm skin press against his lips. He opened his eyes, first noticing the thumb pressed against his lips, then looked up and found himself staring into the bleary hazel eyes of his husband.

“Brian,” he whispered, gently grabbing his hand and pressing a kiss to his palm. He looked up again and smiled, taking note of the questioning look in the older man’s eyes. “The doctors put the tube down your throat to help you breathe.” He stood and made his way to the head of the hospital bed, his hand coming to rest on Brian’s forehead as he gently brushed his hair from his brow. With his other hand he pressed the call button. “I love you.” Leaning over, he gently kissed Brian’s forehead. Then he reached up and unfastened the chain around his neck, retrieving Brian’s ring as he did so. Very carefully, he replaced the platinum band on his left ring ringer. “I think they’ll let you get away with that, but we’ll have to hold off on the bracelet.” He smiled slightly and brushed a kiss against Brian’s cheek as the door opened and a nurse stepped into the room.

***

Brian couldn’t talk, even after the doctor removed the tube from his throat, so Justin sat on the edge of his bed, carefully feeding him bits of ice. Every so often he’d lightly run his thumb over the older man’s lip, then lean forward and gently kiss him. They’d been warned against any type of physical exertion since Brian’s lungs were still too fragile to handle it at the moment.

“Fin’s been at Daphne’s. Her mother’s been looking after him when she’s at school. He’s won her over.” He took in Brian’s questioning gaze and smiled. “I thought about asking Mel and Lindsay, but he doesn’t really know them all that well yet. Maybe when he knows them better. . . .” Brian slowly nodded, then gestured to the cup of ice. Justin acquiesced and slid another small piece between his lips. He set the cup down and slid further up on the bed, leaning forward and carefully hugging the older man so as not to put any pressure on his chest. “I love you.”

“You too,” Brian replied in a raspy whisper, reaching with his left hand and brushing away a tear as it made its way down Justin’s cheek.

***

Justin waited until Brian had been given a light sedative, the doctor promising that the older man would make a full recovery, before he left the hospital. He was exhausted and knew he should pick Finlay up at Daphne’s and go home, but as he sat in his car he could think of only one place to go.

Ten minutes later he pulled up in front of the jail where his father was now being held, having been extradited to Pittsburgh. Apparently the man had put up little fight when the police had arrested him at his office in Chicago, calmly asking his secretary to call his lawyer as the police led him away. Justin sighed as he stared at the large brick building in front of him. He rubbed his eyes for a moment, trying to rid himself of his exhaustion, then climbed out of his car.

***

Justin stared at his hands, his eyes focused on the gleaming platinum band, a sharp contrast to the gray of the room he now found himself sitting in. He looked up only when he heard the door behind himself open. It was a shock, seeing his father in an orange jumpsuit, but he kept his face expressionless as the other man was led around the table to the chair opposite him.

“I’ll be just outside,” the guard said to Justin when Craig was situated. “Knock when you want to leave.”

“Thanks.”

“What are you doing here?” Craig asked, glaring at his son.

“Honestly, I’m not sure. You don’t want to talk to me, and after you hit Brian I sure as fuck don’t want to talk to you. And yet this is where I ended up coming after leaving the hospital.” He crossed his arms over his chest. “I suppose I just want to get some sort of explanation.”

“I don’t owe you anything!”

“The fuck you don’t!”

“You do realize that my future is in serious jeopardy? I could lose everything because of this! My business, the house . . .”

“Forgive me if I don’t give a shit, considering you almost killed my husband.”

“Don’t call him that!” Craig cringed and looked away from his son. 

“Look at me!” Justin glared at the older man, who remained turned in his seat and staring at the wall. “Look at me, you fucking prick!” He waited a moment until the older man slowly returned his attention to him. “I’m just going to say this once, and hopefully it’ll sink into your mind once and for all. Brian is my husband. I married him on December 22nd . . . in a church . . . with a priest and vows. We love each other. We’re raising our children together. We have a home and friends, he has his career, I have school and my job . . . Finlay and I are on his benefits at work, we’ve combined our finances, we pay for everything together, we make decisions regarding our future together . . . and unlike your marriage to Mom, neither of us fucks around. So you’ll have to fucking deal with it if I consider myself married to him.”

“It’s not legal.”

“We don’t care! Do you have any idea how many times people point that out to us? It doesn’t matter in terms of how we regard each other and in terms of how our relationship works. And I have no reason to defend it to you, because you’ve turned into a raving lunatic where Brian and I are concerned!”

“I want you to have a normal life!”

“I do! Anyway, how normal is it for someone’s father to run down their spouse with their car?” He shook his head slightly, then took a deep breath. “I used to think that someday we’d work things out . . . that you’d be okay with how my life is going . . . but now I don’t care if you never come to that conclusion. I don’t ever want to see you or talk to you or hear your fucking name ever again. You want to consider me dead to you, then go right the fuck ahead. Once your trial is over feel free to do that, because after that I’m out of your life forever. And if you come anywhere near me, or Brian, or our children, I won’t be responsible for my actions.”

“Is that a threat?” Craig demanded, as Justin stood and made his way toward the door.

“Take it however you want.” He knocked lightly on the door, slipping out when it was opened, leaving his father sitting there, mouth agape.

***

“Daddy!” Finlay screeched as Mrs. Chanders set the little boy down. He ran over to his father, who immediately picked him up and held him tightly against his chest. The little boy then began peppering his father with sloppy kisses.

“I missed you so much, Fin,” he said quietly, pressing a kiss to the side of the boy’s head, then brushing his soft white-blond hair away from his forehead.

“Where Papa?”

“He’s still not feeling well. The doctor wants to keep an eye on him a while longer. But he’s awake and maybe in a day or so you can talk to him on the phone, okay?”

“Miss Papa.”

“I know you do. He misses you, too.” He glanced over Finlay’s shoulder and offered Daphne’s mother a small smile. “Thank you so much for watching him.”

“You’re welcome. How’s Brian doing?” she asked as Justin set Finlay down and handed him the toy truck that had been resting atop the coffee table.

“Good. He woke up this morning.”

“I’m so glad to hear that.”

“Yeah, it’s the best news I’ve had all week.” He reached down and brushed Finlay’s hair from his forehead. “So I think it’s time to take Finlay home and start getting things back to normal.”

“I’ll just go get his things,” the older woman replied with a smile before turning and making her way up the stairs.

Justin looked down at Finlay as the little boy pushed his truck around on the carpet. He grinned and dropped down next to the boy, carefully picking him up and setting him on his lap while allowing him to still play.

***

“I must look like shit,” Brian whispered the next day as Justin sat in the chair beside his bed.

“You’re awake and you’re going to be okay, so from where I’m sitting you’re looking pretty fucking good.”

“You’re my husband. You have to say shit like that.”

“True. But I mean it.” He stood and sidled up to the bed, then leaned over and pressed a light kiss to the other man’s lips. “So I talked to your doctor while you were sleeping and he said that once you’re off the oxygen for two days without needing occasional doses of it, you can come home. Your incision should be mostly healed by then.”

“So what timeframe are we looking at?”

“Five days to a week.”

“Christ. When can I see the kids?” He reached over with his good hand and laced his fingers through Justin’s.

“Not until you get the all-clear. The doctor doesn’t want to take any chances on you catching a cold or getting a lung infection while your lung is still healing. I’ll call tonight so you can talk to Fin on the phone, okay?”

“Okay.” He sighed and closed his eyes for a moment. “I’m going to kill that fucking bastard when I get out of here.”

“Actually, I already talked to him,” he remarked, taking note of Brian’s eyes narrowing at his statement. “Now, keep quiet and let me talk and don’t freak out, okay? Cause it’s not good for your lungs.” He studied Brian for a moment. “Promise you’ll just listen?”

“Promise.”

“I went to see him last night after you fell asleep. I just . . . I had to end it. Tell him how I felt about him, about what he did to you. He’s not my family, you and Fin and Gus are, and I had to do what I could to protect that. So I told him to stay the fuck away from us. That we don’t want anything to do with him. And that his trial would be the last time either of us ever wanted to hear his name, let alone see him.” He ran his thumb lightly along Brian’s cheek, offering a slight smile when Brian nodded at the conclusion of his explanation. Leaning over, he gently kissed him. “So . . . feeling up to seeing some of the gang?”

“Christ.”

“Revisiting your Catholic upbringing?”

“Fuck you.”

“Not until your lungs are better.”

***

Deb inched into the hospital room, her eyes darting back and forth between Brian and Justin. The younger man was perched on the edge of the bed, smiling and laughing as he attempted to smear some Burt’s Bees lip balm onto Brian’s lips, despite the man’s protestations that he didn’t “want that shit” anywhere near him.

“If I had it on and kissed you then you wouldn’t complain about it so much.”

“Care to test that theory?”

“Sure.”

Deb stood just inside the doorway and watched for a moment as Justin spread the balm on his lips, the leaned forward and kissed Brian, effectively transferring some of the balm to him. Brian carefully wrapped his cast-clad right arm around Justin’s back and nudged him forward as the kiss became a little more heated.

“Only Brian Kinney would choose a black cast,” she remarked a moment later as Justin pulled away and wiped at the balm, which was now smeared around Brian’s mouth a little, before wiping at his own.

“Goes with everything.”

“So, um . . . you’re looking good.”

“I look like shit. You can admit it.”

“Okay, you do. But you’re awake and talking, so that’s an improvement,” she replied, as the door opened again and Michael stepped into the room.

“Hi, Brian.”

“Michael.” His eyes shifted from Deb and Michael back to Justin. “Could you do me a favor? Call Cynthia and have her gather up my files and bring them here.”

“You’re supposed to be relaxing and getting better.”

“I’m fucking bored when you’re not here.”

“Okay. I’ll ask her to bring a few but that’s it. I don’t care if you want them all, you’re just getting a few.” He stepped around Michael and Debbie as he left the room, barely giving them a nod as he did so.

“Justin looks a lot happier now that you’re going to be okay,” Debbie said quietly, wandering over to the side of the bed and looking down at Brian for a moment before dropping into the plastic chair at his bedside.

“Well, he would . . . he needs someone to help him pick out clothes.”

“Asshole.” Debbie smiled at him for a moment before sobering. “He’s a strong kid. I don’t think I ever realized that before.”

“You don’t really know him, Deb. You haven’t wanted to.”

“I just--.”

“I know.” Brian’s gaze shifted to Michael, who had once again begun inching his way into the room and who now stood at the end of the bed, his hands stuffed into the pockets of his coat. “What are you doing here?”

“Why don’t I leave you boys alone to talk? Seems like it’s long overdue.” Deb offered each of them another small smile before leaving the room, her sneakers squeaking on the tiled floor.

Brian studied Michael for a moment. The man seemed somehow smaller, more nervous than he ever had before. It was strange . . . for so long they’d been such good friends and now it was as if they were practically strangers.

“I just . . . wanted to see you. But, um . . . I can’t stay long. Ben’s waiting outside. He’s asked me to speak to one of his classes on the gay themes in comic books, so he’s going to help me with my speech.” One corner of his mouth lifted in a slight grimace as he turned just enough to look out the window. “I don’t know if I want to do it, but it’s too late to go back and I don’t want to disappoint Ben.”

“You’ll be fine.”

“Yeah.” He let out a loud sigh. “So do you remember any of the accident?”

“Bits and pieces. Justin told me the rest.”

“So what are you going to do?”

“It’s out of my hands. The DA’s got the case now.”

“But it was Justin’s dad!”

“Yeah, I know. But I can’t do anything. He’s already in jail. And, frankly, I don’t want to waste any more time on him. I just want to get the fuck out of here and go home.”

“I could come around and help you out if you want.”

“Michael, I’m fine. Just because I have a broken arm doesn’t mean I can’t do the same things I always do. Though I think Justin’s going to have to take total control of Fin’s bathtime.”

“I can’t imagine you giving a baby a bath,” Michael remarked, huffing slightly, then beginning to chew on the skin around his thumbnail.

“I’m not the same person I was. You should be able to see that by now.”

“It’s just . . . you were that person for such a long time.”

“Well, I started early. But that’s the past. That’s not who I am anymore. It’s part of me, but not all of me, and certainly not the most important part.”

“I don’t understand.”

“Everyone grows up sometime, Mikey. Everyone has a different catalyst for finally getting up the fucking guts to do it. Justin’s been my catalyst.” He looked down at his hand for a moment, studying the ring that adorned his finger. “Let’s just suppose I’d never met him. What do you think my life would be like?”

“I don’t know. You sure as hell wouldn’t have gotten run over.”

“Maybe. But I probably would have ended up dead at thirty anyway.”

“What are you talking about?”

“I never wanted a partner, kids, a family . . . by the time I turned twenty-nine I’d achieved all I’d ever wanted to in terms of my career. So what, exactly, would be the point of sticking around for the next fifty years?”

“And Justin made you suddenly want to be this family man? You’ve always despised that role, Brian! You’ve never wanted to become it.”

“I changed. I’m not going to defend it or apologize for it. That’s just how it is. The fact of the matter is, thirty’s not looking so horrible anymore.”

“You’ve still got a little while, though,” Justin remarked as he stepped into the room, having caught the last few words Brian had spoken. “So enjoy the remaining moments of your twenties.”

“Said the one who’s still a teenager.”

“Exactly. I’ve enjoyed the waning moments of your twenties . . . but just think— you get two and a half years of my teens. And all of my twenties.”

“Ah, youth.” Brian smiled, then reached up and sunk his fingers into Justin’s waistband, pulling the younger man down for yet another heated kiss, barely registering the soft bang of the door as it closed behind Michael.

***

Cynthia wasn’t at all surprised, upon entering Brian’s hospital room, to find Justin curled up in the overstuffed chair in the corner, fast asleep. He’d sounded tired on the phone, but he must have been totally exhausted to have fallen asleep in what appeared to be such an uncomfortable position.

“Don’t worry—you won’t wake him up,” Brian remarked with a smirk. “There’s very little that can.”

Her eyes drifted to the bed where her boss lay, clad only in a blue hospital gown, a thin blanket pulled up to his waist. “That’s good to know,” she replied, setting the large accordion file she carried on the rolling tray positioned to the left of the bed. Then she took a seat in the empty plastic chair. “So . . . how’re you feeling?”

“Little better every day. How’s everything going at the office?”

“Pretty good. Marty’s been complaining a bit. He seems under the impression that he’s the only one who does any work around there.”

“Please. He spends more time with his golf buddies than he does working.”

“I hope you don’t mind my asking, because I’m sure this isn’t the best time . . . but have you given any more thought to going out on your own?” She twisted her small ruby ring around her finger as she studied Brian for a moment.

“You know I want my own agency. Maybe in a year or two, when things calm down a little. It’s just not the right time.”

“How so?”

“I need a stronger client base.”

“Brian, the clients all love you. You have almost all of them in your pocket.”

“Yeah, but . . . I need to know they’ll stay there. That they’ll go with me. I haven’t had most of them long enough to guarantee that. And I can’t strike out on my own until I know they’ll be willing to take that risk with me.”

“Well, I’m coming. I’ve told you that before, and I stand by that decision. As soon as you do it, I’ll hand Marty my letter of resignation.” She offered him a smile, then reached forward and patted his hand lightly, though she had rarely touched him in the past. “Well, I should get going. Let you rest.”

“All I ever do is rest. I’m bored out of my fucking mind,” Brian replied, rolling his eyes. “So has Marty said anything about me missing more time? I know he’s not pleased that I took time off earlier this year.”

“You’re a partner, he can fucking deal with it!” Cynthia exclaimed quietly, her eyes momentarily darting over to Justin as the young man groaned slightly and moved a bit before settling down again. “Besides, even if he wants to say something about it, he can’t exactly do it without looking like a heartless shit. No one in their right mind would take issue with you missing time when you’re in the hospital. Especially after what happened.”

“We all know what an ass Marty is, though. Anyway, what did you bring me?”

“Ah, yes. The Optimetrics account. They insisted on coming for a meeting, knowing you wouldn’t be there, so I insisted on sitting in on it with Marty. So I have notes on that so you can get started. I also brought printouts of the work that’s gone into some of our smaller accounts so you can keep up with what’s going on, and help whip it all into shape before the reps come next month.”

“Good. Maybe I’ll send Justin over with everything once I’ve gotten some ideas down. He needs to get out of here once in a while during daylight.”

“I do not,” Justin remarked quietly, his eyes still closed. He opened his eyes slowly and groaned, then turned and stood, immediately picking little bits of sleep from his eyes. “Hi Cynthia.”

“Justin.” She offered him a smile. “How are you?”

“Good.”

“You should go home and get some sleep,” Brian said quietly as Justin dropped onto the edge of his hospital bed.

“I’ll go home later.” He leaned forward and pressed a kiss to Brian’s lips, then returned his gaze to Cynthia. “Do you have to be back right away?”

“Of course not.” Brian rolled his eyes at his husband, offering him a little smirk as he did so.

“Good. Then you can fill me in on what’s going on with you and Thomas.”

“Tales of breeder love? I’m sick already, remember?”

“Fuck off, Brian,” Cynthia said, laughing. “We’re good. He’s taking me to meet his mother next weekend.”

“Big step.”

“Yeah. Hopefully I’ll survive.”

“There’s no doubt about that,” Brian added. “You have metaphorical balls of steel. The question is, will his mother still be alive after this meeting?”

***

Justin stopped by Brian’s office shortly after one the following afternoon to drop off the paperwork Brian had been working on and to pick up some more. As he stepped into the outer office of Brian’s office suite he found the blonde woman standing, arms crossed over her chest, as she studied the boards a young woman held before her.

“Hi. Hope I’m not interrupting.”

“Justin, hi. Of course you’re not. Come here a second.” She gestured him over and pointed to the boards, totally oblivious to the nervousness of the girl holding the boards. “This is Karen, she’s interning in the art department. Karen, this is Justin, Brian’s better half.”

“He’d hate you saying that.” Justin smirked, unable to suppress his laughter.

“Yeah, but he’s not here. So, what do you think of this? And I want your honest opinion.”

“Hm.” He studied the image for a moment while chewing on his thumbnail. “The blue’s too strong. May I?” He handed Cynthia the accordion file he’d brought back and tilted his head toward the board.

“Of course.” 

Justin reached forward and carefully extricated the board from the girl’s hands, making sure she didn’t drop the others she held. He raised it so that it was eye-level and studied it for a moment. “Yeah, it’s mostly the blue. I’d make it, like, two shades lighter.”

“Why?” Karen asked.

“It’s competing for attention with the model’s eyes. His glasses make his eyes pop, which brings out the blue . . . the blue that’s currently in the background is the same shade as his eyes. If it’s just a little bit lighter, your attention will be focused more on his eyes and, as a result, on his glasses.”

“Good thinking,” Cynthia replied with a smile. “But there’s something else. Something I can’t quite pinpoint.”

“The smile. It’s too . . . ‘look at how gorgeous I am’ and not enough . . . ‘come hither.’” He turned and offered Cynthia a small smile. “Does that even make sense? Because in my mind, it makes sense, but I know that doesn’t mean it will to anyone else.”

“Actually, I see your point. Karen? Could you take this back downstairs and tell George we need a different photo and a lighter blue in the background? And I want it done by three o’clock. Tell him to bring it up himself.”

“Yes, m’am,” she replied, taking back the board Justin held out and swiftly turning and exiting the office.

“Hm. I know they’re scared of Brian, but are they scared of you, too?”

“I’ve picked up a thing or two after working for Brian all these years. It’s good to have a certain ability to intimidate.” She held the file folder slightly aloft. “I take it Brian tore through these.”

“Of course. He left a note in there for you with instructions.”

“Brian . . . always on top of things.” Cynthia smirked, then leaned against the edge of her desk. “So, honestly, how’s he doing?”

“He’s getting impatient. Wants to go home. Which I totally understand. I was like that, too, when I was in the hospital. Plus, there’s Finlay. It’s Brian’s first time away from him since they met, so it’s an issue.”

“He doesn’t think Finlay’s forgotten him, does he?”

“No, no, nothing like that. He’s talked to him on the phone, so that’s fine. I think it’s more that he doesn’t want Finlay to think he’s abandoned him. He won’t come right out and say it, but I’m sure that’s what it is.”

“Cynthia! Where are the boards for Mellville?” Marty bellowed as he stepped into the office.

“I believe Vinnie is still working on them.”

“Would you be so kind as to go downstairs and check?”

“Of course.” She turned to Justin and offered him a tight smile, then deposited the accordion folder on her desk and hurried out of the office.

“So . . . Mr. Taylor. What brings you here?”

“Brian asked me to drop some things off.”

“How is he?”

“Better.”

“Any idea when he’ll be back to work? He has some major accounts he needs to keep tabs on and he can’t exactly do that if he’s not in the office.”

“He’ll be here when his doctor clears him to return to work. No sooner.” Justin crossed his arms over his chest and studied the older man, taking in the gray that permeated his reddish-brown hair and the way his steel-gray eyes seemed to harden behind the lenses of his wire-framed glasses.

“And I trust that when he does you’ll limit your time spent in this office.”

“Excuse me?”

“This is a place of business, not a place for the two of you to have your little . . . trysts.”

“If I come here to visit him, it’s either because he’s asked me to, or because it’s his lunch break. I wasn’t aware that the other spouses weren’t allowed to drop in during business hours.”

“Speaking of business, I’d appreciate it if you’d refrain from attending any more company parties.” Marty reached up and straightened his tie.

“My understanding is that you and Brian are partners in this company. As such, you should know more than anyone that you can’t tell him who he can or can’t bring to a company party. If he asks me to attend, then I will, because I support him.”

“You’d think, after what just happened, that you’d refrain from causing him any more harm.”

“For your information, nothing would have happened to Brian if you had gone over the guest list with him. As a partner, he had a right to know who to expect. So don’t blame me for any of this. It’s not my fault. It happened and nothing can change that.”

“Tell him I want him in this office as soon as possible.”

“He knows. However, until then you’ll have to content yourself with him working from home. Have a good afternoon.” Justin quickly turned and left the office, fuming at Marty Ryder’s superior attitude. As he rode the elevator down to the lobby he took several deep breaths to calm himself. He had to pick Finlay up from daycare and he’d be damned if he’d let Marty put him in a bad mood.

***

Three days later Brian stood just inside the door of his home, a slight smile on his face. He could hear Daphne and Fin in the kitchen. Reaching back, he grabbed Justin’s hand and laced their fingers as he dragged the younger man toward their son’s giggles. When they reached the kitchen they stood in the doorway for a moment, watching as Daphne finished frosting a cake, and then offered a small amount of chocolate frosting to Finlay. The little boy squealed with delight as he licked the frosting from the spoon and began clapping his hands.

“Hey, little man,” Brian said quietly, letting go of Justin’s hand and making his way to Finlay’s high chair. “Daphne’s feeding you pure sugar, I see.”

“Papa!” Finlay screeched, beginning to wiggle in the chair as he reached for Brian. “Papa Papa Papa!”

“Give me a second, Fin.” Using only his left hand, Brian quickly removed the tray from the chair, then leaned over and, wrapping his arm around Finlay, hoisted the boy up until he was held securely against his hip. “I missed you.” He planted a kiss on his son’s cheek. “You miss me?” Brian carried him over to the kitchen table and sat down at a chair Justin had pulled out for him on his way to the refrigerator.

“Yeah. Papa, where go?”

“I was in the hospital.”

“What dat?”

“It’s where you go if you get hurt. They make you better.”

“Oh. What dat?” Finlay asked, setting one pudgy little hand on Brian’s cast.

“I broke my arm.”

“Broke?”

“Yeah. And this is keeping it in the right place so it can heal.”

“Hurt?”

“Not so much right now,” he replied as Justin opened a bottle of water and set it in front of him. “Thanks.” He smiled at Justin for a moment, then glanced over at Daphne. “Is that entire cake chocolate?”

“Oh. Yeah. Double chocolate.”

“Do we have milk? Can’t have chocolate cake without milk.”

“Yeah, there’s a fresh gallon in there. Justin asked me to do a little shopping for you guys.”

“I love you,” he deadpanned.

“What about me?” Justin asked, pretending to pout.

“I love you, too . . . but Daphne made cake,” he replied, as Finlay burst into a fresh round of giggles and buried his head against his father’s neck as Brian merely smiled.


	9. Chapter Nine

Finlay was in the mood to walk, so Brian held onto his hand and walked slowly with him down the aisles of Nordstrom’s. Why they had to be there was beyond him. He’d suggested they shop someplace not in a mall, someplace a bit more upscale, but Justin had disagreed and he didn’t feel like fighting about it.

“What about these?” Justin plucked a pair of little green cargo pants from a rack and held them up for Brian’s inspection.

“What brand?”

“Polo.”

“I guess I can live with Polo. Just don’t get him any of that other fucker’s clothes.”

“Cause that narrows it down.” Justin rolled his eyes and began searching the rack for a pair in Finlay’s size. He quickly found one and hung it over his arm, then set about looking for a black pair.

“The one that was dating that girl with the big ass. And then he shot up a club or something.”

“Diddy?”

“Whoeverthefuck.”

“Well, the clothing line is called ‘Sean John.’”

“Christ. He needs to pick a name and stick with it.”

“That you know any of them amazes me. Oh, this is nice.” Justin grabbed a light blue shirt with a silver star on it and held it up.

“Not bad. Fin? What do you think of the shirt Daddy’s holding?”

“Pity!”

***

“Brian, we’ve gotten him, like, fifteen shirts, twelve pairs of jeans . . . he doesn’t need that much stuff,” Justin remarked, searching through Finlay’s diaper bag and pulling out a sippy cup. He removed the top and handed it to his son, who promptly popped the spout into his mouth.

“He needs variety in his spring wardrobe.” He grabbed a little black track jacket from a rack. “What about this?”

“Brian?” 

He turned at the sound of his name being called and found himself face to face with his sister. He sighed and reached up, scratching the back of his neck, before muttering, “Claire.” He handed the jacket to Justin, then turned back to the older woman. “What are you doing here?”

“Shopping for a baby shower. You?”

“Brian? I’m gonna take Fin over to look at the shoes, okay?” Justin said, looking from Brian to Claire and back again. Then he took Finlay’s free hand and began walking with the boy toward the shoes, using his other hand to push the stroller now loaded down with potential purchases.

Brian watched them wander off, a slight smile on his face as he did so, then turned back to his sister. “What do you want, Claire?”

“Nothing. I’ve never wanted anything from you. I just saw you here and thought I’d say hi.”

“You thought you’d stick your nose in and try and get some juicy gossip to take to Mom. I know you, Claire, I know how your mind works.”

“I don’t think anything I could tell her would top what she witnessed the last time she was at your place. Because whatever it was, she wouldn’t talk about it. She just clammed right up and wouldn’t talk to me.” She crossed her arms over her chest and stared at him.

“If you’ve got shopping to do, shouldn’t you be doing it? I’d imagine you’d have to go pick up your spawn from school soon.” He moved to another rack to look at a pale blue jacket.

“Since when do you shop for children?”

“Since I became a father.” He unzipped the jacket slightly and looked at the lining. The stitching seemed good enough, and it wasn’t too heavy for the spring, so he found one in Finlay’s size and draped it over his broken arm. While the arm wasn’t good for much else at the moment, he could at least use it to hold lightweight clothing. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, my son is waiting for me.”

“What? Jesus Christ, Brian! You can’t just drop a bomb like that and then take off!” Claire planted her hands on her hips and glared at her younger brother, the wrinkles on her forehead becoming more prominent as she furrowed her brow. “I think you at least owe me an explanation.”

“I don’t owe you anything, Claire. I really don’t. You have your life, and I have mine, and neither of us answers to the other.”

“Okay, so maybe that’s true, but if I have a nephew, then I’d like to get to know him.”

“No.” He studied her for a moment, suddenly noticing how old and tired she seemed. Even though she was eight years older than him, she shouldn’t look nearly as old as she did. “I don’t want to fight with you. I just want to finish shopping and go home with my family, okay?”

“And what am I?”

“Someone I’m related to. Nothing more, nothing less.”

“You always did hate me.”

“It’s not a matter of hate. It’s more like . . . indifference.”

“How can you be indifferent to your family?” she asked.

“I’m not. I’m indifferent to you and Mom. My family is currently over in that corner looking at Converse sneakers.” He reached up and pinched the bridge of his nose.

“Brian! Is that a wedding ring? When did you get married? And why didn’t Mom tell me?”

“Because, if you look closely, the matching ring is on his finger,” he replied, shifting his gaze to Justin as the younger man instructed Finlay to sit on the floor, then got down beside him, keeping up a steady chatter with the little boy as he began putting a little pair of sneakers on his feet. Brian looked at his sister again, noting the shock on her face, then turned and began walking back to his family.

***

Sunday afternoon found Brian lounging on the sofa, reading through the most recent copy of _Adweek,_ when the doorbell rang. He flipped the magazine over and set it on the coffee table before getting up and heading downstairs to the front door. Upon opening it he was surprised to see Jennifer standing there, briefcase in hand.

“Showing houses on the weekend?”

“Something like that. I had some time between appointments and thought I’d stop by. Is Justin around?” she asked, as Brian stepped aside and let her into the house.

“Um, no, he went to get groceries. He should be back in a little while. Fin’s taking a nap.” He gestured toward the kitchen with his cast-covered hand and began walking down the hall as she followed. “Want something to drink? Water, wine, beer . . .”

“A glass of wine would be nice.”

“White?”

“Please.” Jennifer leaned against the counter and studied Brian as he went about getting first the wine and then a glass. There was no denying that the man was beautiful, or that he exuded sexuality like few men she had ever encountered. She knew that’s what drew Justin to him in the first place, but even though she and her son had grown closer in recent months, she still didn’t truly understand his and Brian’s relationship. She had no doubt that they cared about each other—all doubts had been silenced in the aftermath of Brian’s attack—but she was still curious.

“You look like you’re thinking about something serious.” Brian handed her the glass, then retrieved a bottle of water from the fridge. “Is there something you want to talk about?”

Jennifer nodded, then took a sip of her wine before focusing on Brian once again. “Why Justin?”

“Why not Justin?”

“I just want to understand how the two of you ended up together, that’s all. It’s not such an unusual thing to wonder about.” She set her glass on the counter and crossed her arms over her chest.

“Okay. First off, he’s beautiful. Not just attractive, because I’ve been with tons of attractive men. None of them compare to him. Justin’s gorgeous. That’s what I noticed first.”

“You couldn’t have noticed his personality?” Incredulity dripped from her voice.

“We were both looking to get laid. Personality has nothing to do with that. It’s all about sexuality and attractiveness. You know that as well as I do.”

“So you were just using him?”

“We were using _each other._ We didn’t come back here that night with the intention of building a relationship. We wanted to fuck and enjoy each other, no strings attached.” He signed and scratched the back of his neck. “Isn’t enough to say that I love him and I want a life with him? That we’re building that together? Why do people feel they have a right to know the details?”

“Forgive me for being concerned about my son and the choices he’s making.” Jennifer crossed her arms over her chest and began pacing the room. “It’s just . . . I don’t know you. All I know is what I’ve heard.”

“And what’s that, exactly?”

“Just . . . that you sleep around and have a temper . . .”

“Debbie’s been telling tales. When’d that happen?”

“We got to talking at the hospital. She said she thought I deserved to know what kind of person my son is involved with.”

“Keep in mind that your son is my husband, okay? And he’s perfectly capable of making his own decisions. He knows about my past and he’s fine with it.”

“But is it in the past? Because Debbie seems to think you’ll have problems being monogamous. And she also said that your temper sometimes gets the better of you.”

“Then clearly Debbie doesn’t really know me anymore, because I would never break my vows. I would never hurt Justin like that.”

“You can’t be certain, though, Brian. Things happen. I’ve been there.”

“And if it does, we’ll deal with it together. It’s no one else’s business,” he replied. “I have to check on my son.” Then he turned and made his way back to the living room and to the stairs leading to the second level of his home. When he entered Finlay’s room he found the little boy standing and hanging onto the side of the crib. The moment he saw Brian he started bouncing up and down.

“Papa!”

“Hey, little man. Have a good nap?”

“I seep!”

“You did. You slept.”

“Where Daddy?”

“At the store.”

“Stoe?”

“Yes.”

“Bo?”

“No, no boats today. Groceries.”

“What dat?”

“Food.”

“Oh. Papa? Wader?”

“Okay, hang on a second. Picking you up with one arm is a bit tricky, you know. And you’re not as light as you used to be.” Brian carefully reached into the crib and wrapped his left arm around Finlay, making sure he had a good grip before even attempting to pick him up.

A few minutes later, when they’d reached the stairs, Finlay announced, “wan do it,” while patting Brian’s face and then looking pointedly at the stairs.

“You wanna go down the stairs by yourself?”

“Self.”

“You’re so much like your dad with this independence thing,” Brian groused good-naturedly, carefully setting Finlay down. “Tell you what . . . you can do it, but you have to sit on the steps and go very slowly from one to the other so you don’t fall, okay?”

“Sit?”

“Yes. Like this.” Brian sat on the stairs, and carefully set Finlay on his lap, then slid down to the next step. “See?”

“On butt?”

“Yup.”

“’Kay.”

Brian planted a kiss on the child’s head, then carefully set him on the step, a small smile curling his lips upward as he watched Finlay tentatively slide to the next step, then start giggling at his accomplishment.

“Did it!” Finlay announced once they had reached the bottom step.

“Yes you did. And now we can go to the kitchen and get your water.”

“Wader!”

“Let’s go.” He stood, then reached down and grasped Finlay’s small hand. When they entered the kitchen Brian looked down at his son. “Go say hello to your grandmother and I’ll get you your water, okay?”

***

“You’re good with him,” Jennifer remarked a short while later as the three of them sat in the living room. Brian was on the floor with Finlay, the two of them pushing toy cars around on the carpet. Occasionally he would lightly crash one of the cars into the child’s, something that was guaranteed to make the little boy laugh. “You’re a natural.”

“Fin deserves a happy childhood.”

“Everyone deserves that.”

“But not everyone gets it.” He looked at her pointedly, then returned his attention to his son. “Justin and I aren’t going to let Fin be one of those kids.”

“Were you?”

“It wasn’t ideal,” he replied. “But it’s in the past.”

***

Brian was sitting on the sofa, once again flipping through _Adweek,_ when Justin opened the door and stepped inside. He was loaded down with bags of groceries and immediately set them on the floor.

“Why do I always get stuck behind the woman with a cart full of groceries, eight million coupons, a checkbook, and a cashier who doesn’t know how to do his job?” He toed off his shoes, added his jacket to the coat rack, and dropped onto the sofa beside Brian. “And did I, or did I not, see my mom’s car out front?”

“She’s upstairs changing Fin.”

“Really?”

“Yup.” He reached over and grasped Justin’s hand, pulling the younger man over until he was straddling Brian’s lap. “That’s much better.”

“Are you trying to seduce me, Mr. Kinney?” Justin grinned, then reached out and began playing with the hair at the back of Brian’s neck.

“Take it any way you want.”

“That would require my mother not being upstairs,” he replied with a smile. Then he leaned forward and captured Brian’s lips in a slow, sensual kiss, pulling back a moment later only to begin lightly sucking on Brian’s neck.

“Fuck.”

“Not while my mom’s here, dear,” he replied in a high-pitched, mocking, voice.

“Suck?” Brian scowled at Justin’s burst of laughter. “You can suck me off in, like, two minutes. Your mom would never know.”

“Right. Brian, those blowjobs always have you screaming. There’s no way she wouldn’t hear that.”

“I’m not a screamer.” He pushed Justin’s tee shirt up slightly and ran his fingers along his smooth stomach.

“Fine. Moaning. And don’t deny you’re a moaner, because you definitely are.” He drew in a sharp breath as Brian hooked his fingers in the waistband of his jeans. “What are you doing?”

“Providing you with a little motivation to get your mother out of here as soon as possible.” He slid his hand to the small of Justin’s back, pulling him closer, until their chests were touching and began kissing his neck.

“I really should put the groceries away.”

“Any perishables?”

“Nothing that can’t wait.”

“Then let’s fuck.”

“But my mom . . .”

“Who the fuck cares? You said yourself she’s already seen us.” Brian dipped his hand further into Justin’s jeans and smiled wickedly when the younger man groaned loudly and ground against him.

“Fuck. Fine. Guest room.” He quickly climbed off Brian’s lap, then turned around so that he was facing his husband and unbuttoned his jeans. Then he slowly lowered the zipper halfway and offered him an evil grin, before turning and heading down the hall to the spare room, Brian following at his heels.

***

“I wish we’d put an adjoining bathroom in here.” Justin grabbed a handful of tissues and began wiping at his chest as Brian leaned against the headboard and chuckled. “My mom might know we’re in here fucking, but that doesn’t mean I want her to smell cum the second I step into the living room.”

“But there’s no greater smell.” Brian reached out and wrapped his left arm around Justin’s slim waist and pulled him against his chest. “And who cares what your mother thinks.” He pressed an open-mouthed kiss to the back of Justin’s neck. “Now come on. Fin’s been on pins and needles since he woke up waiting for you to get home.”

***

When they emerged a short time later, clothes disheveled, hair tousled, a light sheen of sweat adorning their skin, it was to find Jennifer sitting on the sofa, lightly bouncing Finlay on her knee and reading him a story.

“Hi Mom.”

“I put your groceries away. I wasn’t sure how long you’d be and I didn’t want anything spoiling.” She shot them a look of disapproval, which they promptly chose to ignore.

“Thanks.” He offered her a slightly lopsided smile, then reached over and hooked a finger through Brian’s belt loop, pulling the taller man closer.

“Daddy!” Finlay screeched, scrambling off Jennifer’s lap and awkwardly running over to Justin. “Up!” He held his arms up, then howled with laughter as Justin lifted him over his head and spun him in a circle. “Pane! Pane, Daddy!”

“Okay, hang on.” Justin set Finlay on his shoulders, then clasped his hands behind the little boy’s back. “Okay, arms out.” Finlay promptly extended his arms. “Ready?”

“Yeah!”

“Okay, come on.” Justin began doing his best imitation of an airplane as he walked quickly around the living room, occasionally leaning over a little and dipping Finlay before straightening again. “Imagine there are clouds, Fin.”

“Couds!”

“What color are clouds?”

“White!”

“Yup. And what color is the sky?”

“Bue!”

“Right again.” After a few minutes Justin came to a stop beside Brian and carefully set Finlay down before focusing his attention on his mother. “So what’s going on?”

“I just thought I’d stop by and see you. Molly has a play coming up at school, and she was sort of hoping the two of you could come.”

“Oh. Um . . . when is it?”

“A week from Friday.”

“I need to check with my assistant. If there are no dinner meetings scheduled I should be able to make it.”

“We’ll definitely try to be there,” Justin replied with a smile. “What play is it?”

_”Grease.”_

“Which character?” Brian asked, reaching down and brushing Finlay’s hair away from his forehead.

“Rizzo.”

“I bet she’s driving you crazy, wandering around the house singing and all,” Justin remarked with an evil grin.

“Just for that, I hope Finlay takes up the drums and makes your life misery,” she replied with a smile as she retrieved her briefcase and made her way to the door.

“We’ll just have to soundproof one of the guest rooms and let him go at it.” Brian grinned, then opened the door for her.

“Soundproofing would be good. For a number of reasons.” She looked at him pointedly and raised an eyebrow, then turned on her heel and left.

“Told you you were a moaner.”

***

Most of the professors at PIFA had been featured in major galleries and Justin’s advisor was no exception. Alan Anderson had been making the rounds of the most influential art galleries in the country during the course of his tenure and, once Justin had learned he was to be his advisor during his time at the institute, he’d begun doing his research, wanting to know exactly what kind of reputation his advisor had.

“So, Justin,” Alan began, leaning back in his chair, “what made you decide to attend PIFA?”

“It has a great reputation, and most of the professors are highly-respected. A degree from here will get me where I want to be.”

“And where is that, exactly?”

“Working in the art department of a respected company while still doing my own thing in my spare time.”

“You’re not going to try the starving artist route?” he asked with a slight smirk. “Many of the students here believe that’s the only way to go.”

“Frankly, many of the students don’t have that many responsibilities at the moment. When they do, they’ll feel differently,” Justin countered. 

“Touché.” Alan formed a steeple of his fingertips and gazed at the younger man. “So, I’ve reviewed your transcript, and I have to say, I was rather surprised to discover that you have a GED and not a high school diploma. I guess I’m just curious as to why you chose to not go to a regular high school.”

“I had to work to support my son. I did that during the day. The less time I spent in school while also working, the more time I could spend with him.”

“Oh. I didn’t realize you had a child.” He glanced down at the transcript again. “You _do_ understand that this is an intense program? That it requires a lot of time.”

“Yes, I do. And I’m prepared to give it that time. I wouldn’t have bothered applying if I wasn’t.”

“All right, then.” Alan offered a slight smile, then began sifting through the papers on his desk. “Let’s get started.”

***

“Alan Anderson is an amazing artist.” Lindsay handed a bottle to Brian so he could feed Gus. “He’s had his work featured in the best shows, even at the Met, and he’s been written about in _Art Forum_ and countless other art magazines and journals.” She picked at a strawberry that had been added atop the whipped cream on her waffle. “So what classes are you taking?”

“Um, Life Drawing, Computer Graphics, Intro to Advertising, and a course on Roman History.” 

“That’s a full course load. Are you going to have time?” Mel asked.

“Yeah, I’ll manage.” He reached over and wiped a bit of oatmeal from Finlay’s chin. “I’ll cut back at the store if I have to. I didn’t really intend to work while I was in college anyway. I’d planned on dipping into the settlement money.”

“Deb! Coffee!” Brian demanded as the woman rushed past him.

“Keep your pants on, I’ll be right there.”

“You know you don’t have to use the money if you don’t want to,” Brian remarked, looking over at him. “I’m perfectly capable of supporting us while you go to school.”

“Yeah, I know, but I can’t let you do that. I need to contribute. I’m used to paying my own way and I don’t suddenly want that to change.”

“Okay.” He leaned over and pressed a quick kiss to Justin’s lips. When Justin pulled back he offered Brian a wide smile, then reached up and rested his hand on the back of Brian’s neck before pulling him close for another kiss.

“Why is it that every time the two of you come in here, you always end up making out?”

“Didn’t realize it was a crime to kiss my husband, Deb.” Justin stared at her for a moment, then added cream and sugar to his coffee.

“Well, the two of you could try being a little more sensitive. Michael’s sitting just over there, you know.” She tilted her head in the direction of her son and his boyfriend.

“I’m not going out of my way to make him uncomfortable, so he’s gonna have to learn to deal with it,” Brian replied, removing the bottle’s nipple from Gus’s mouth and allowing Justin to take the baby and burp him, since he still couldn’t quite manage it with his broken arm.

“They shouldn’t have to censor themselves because of Michael,” Lindsay remarked, watching Justin as he began lightly patting Gus’s back.

“Gu!”

Gus looked up at the sound of his brother’s voice and offered the other boy a slight smile, immediately followed by a burp. Then he squirmed a bit, trying to get closer to Justin, and burying his little face against Justin’s neck.

“He’ll probably fall asleep soon.” Mel looked at her son and smiled. “He was up half the night.”

“Something wrong?” Brian reached for his coffee cup as he shot a concerned look in his son’s direction. Gus had felt fine when he’d held him a few moments ago.

“Oh, no, he’s fine. Just cranky. For some reason he didn’t want to go to sleep.”

“Takes after his old man.” Justin grinned over at Brian as he continued rubbing circles on the child’s back.

“Yeah, but when I’m up all night it’s for a different reason.” He leaned over and pressed a kiss to the soft skin below Justin’s ear, then dropped another kiss on Gus’s forehead. 

***

“Mm, you look hot,” Brian muttered, his lips against Justin’s ear, as they swayed together in the crowded club.

“So do you. I love dancing with you.”

“I’m a terrible dancer. And if you ever tell anyone I admitted it, you’ll never get to fuck me ever again.”

“Yes I will. You can’t resist me. And you’re only a terrible dancer when you dance alone.” He slid his fingers under Brian’s shirt, his warm hands lightly gripping Brian’s sides. “I’m glad we decided to come here. It’s been awhile.”

“Yeah.” Brian leaned forward and pressed a light kiss to Justin’s lips. “Let’s go get a drink.” He smiled when Justin nodded, then looped a finger into the waistband of Justin’s cargo pants as he led him toward the bar.

“Long time, no see,” Emmett remarked a few moments later as he joined the two men at the bar. He signaled the bartender for a beer, then crossed his arms over the gaudy pink shirt he was wearing. “So how’re Pittsburgh’s favorite married queens?”

“Queens don’t have dicks.” Brian tossed back a shot of whiskey as Justin lightly tapped him on the stomach and gave him a glare, though his eyes were shining with amusement.

“We’re good, Em. What’s the latest with you? Any romance on the horizon?”

“Well, there was that shiatsu practitioner I was fucking last week. Amazing, by the way. Not just at fucking, but he’s really good at his profession. I still have his card, if either of you is interested . . .”

“No thanks.” Brian smirked at the other man, his arm wrapping around Justin’s waist and his hand splaying across the younger man’s flat stomach. He pressed a kiss to the back of his husband’s neck, causing Justin to break into a wide smile as he reached up and allowed his fingers to twine themselves in Brian’s hair.

“You two are so cute.”

“Shut up, Emmett.” Brian glared at him, mischief in his eyes, then let his hand roam slightly until his fingers made their way under the soft material of the tight red shirt Justin was wearing. “Wanna get out of here?” he said quietly, so only Justin could hear him.

“Sure. But I don’t want to go home yet. Woody’s? I feel like kicking your ass in a game of pool.”

“You can go ahead and try, Blondie, but it’s not gonna happen.” He looped his arm around the younger man’s shoulders, then turned his attention to Emmett. “We’re heading out. See you later.” Then he downed the rest of his drink, set the glass on the bar, and led Justin out of the crowded club.

***

“Eight ball, corner pocket,” Brian said, sending the ball crashing into its destination, before offering Justin a victorious smile as he picked up his beer, saluted the younger man, and downed the remains of the bitter liquid.

“Just because you beat me this time doesn’t mean you’ll always beat me.”

“Young man, I’ve been playing pool since you were in short pants,” Brian replied, his voice deeper than usual and a stern look on his face, waiting until Justin cracked up before joining the younger man in laughter.

“You’re so sexy when you laugh.” Justin reached out and twisted Brian’s shirt in his right hand and pulled the older man close, his lips finding Brian’s jaw before making their way up to his lips.

***

Justin leaned back and studied the two-layered chocolate cake on the silver cake stand. He had to admit, the two of them had done a really good job. For the most part, he was a really good cook all on his own, but cakes just weren’t his forte. He grinned and looked to his left.

“It looks amazing, Daph. Thanks.”

“It’s not every day Brian turns thirty. Couldn’t let you destroy his cake.”

“I wouldn’t have destroyed it. It just might have turned out . . . lopsided.”

“But do you really think Brian will eat this? I know he likes it, but he’s so . . . health conscious.”

“It’s his birthday . . . he’ll give in. Um . . . do we have any extra frosting?” 

***

Justin smiled as he surveyed his handiwork, then glanced at the clock. It was nearly 8:30. Brian had been working late more often than not in an attempt to catch up since his release from the hospital, and he knew his husband wasn’t up to a huge birthday celebration. A low-key evening at home would be just the thing to help the man relax.

He was in the bathroom, drawing water for the huge tub they’d had put in during their renovations, when he heard the door open. He glanced over his shoulder and smiled. “Hi.”

“Hi. Nice view.”

“Somehow I knew you’d like it.” He wiggled his ass a little, then stood, turned around, and pulled off his shirt. “Gonna take that suit off?”

Five minutes later, both men were reclining in the sunken tub, Justin lightly rubbing Brian’s stomach as he leaned against him. “Tough day?”

“Marty’s being an ass. He wants me to fly to Phoenix next week.”

“For how long?”

“Two, three days, tops.” Brian reached up and allowed his fingers to comb through Justin’s hair. “It’ll go fast. There’s just no reason why I have to go. Marty could go, if the client is concerned with speaking with a partner.” His hand gently cupped the back of Justin’s head. “Come here.” He drew the younger man forward and lightly kissed him, his other hand disappearing beneath the water, Justin’s sharp intake of breath and slight groan a moment later bringing a smile to his lips.

“Tired?” Justin asked an hour later as they dried each other with the large fluffy red towels that had been on the heated towel rack just a moment earlier.

“Just relaxed.”

“Good.” He took the towel from Brian’s hands and tossed the two large pieces of fabric into the hamper. “Come on.” He led Brian out of the bedroom and over to the large window that dominated much of the sitting area. There, on the floor, was the futon mattress, a bottle of wine that was chilling in ice, two glasses, and the cake. He moved over to the mattress, kneeling on it and pulling Brian down with him until they knelt chest to chest. “Happy Birthday.”

***

“What’re you doing?”

“Hey, you’ve gotten to use me as a canvas more than once, it’s only fair you return the favor,” Brian remarked, dipping his finger in the frosting that adorned the cake, then lightly running his finger down Justin’s chest.

“Mm, Brian, just fuck me already.”

“Nope.”

“Asshole.”

“Well, that’s a given.”

“Come on,” he groaned, as Brian’s hand inched lower.

“Today’s my birthday. You set yourself up as my present, so deal. I’ve never liked wearing out my presents when I first get them.” He smiled wickedly, then began licking the chocolaty confection from the other man’s skin.

***

Justin studied his husband for a minute, taking note of the exhaustion that had claimed many of his features. He rolled onto his stomach and looked at the other man for a moment, his fingers idly drawing designs on his stomach. “How much longer are you gonna have to work late?”

“Mm, a week, maybe. Trying to get everything done so I can go back to a normal schedule.” Brian reached down and wove his fingers through Justin’s, his thumb briefly brushing both his ring and his bracelet. “This has been a really good birthday. I always thought I’d hate turning thirty. So thanks.”

“Well, it’s not over yet. Roll over.”

“I’m so not up for another round right now.”

“That wasn’t my plan.” Justin smiled, then reached under the edge of the futon mattress and produced a small bottle of sandalwood massage oil.

“Mm, good idea. Though I might just fall asleep on you.”

“All part of the plan. You need a good nights’ sleep for a change.” He leaned forward and slowly kissed Brian, then nudged him slightly until the older man rolled onto his stomach. Twenty minutes later Brian was glistening with massage oil as he softly snored, his face buried against the mattress, and Justin curled against him, an alabaster arm draped lightly over his waist.


	10. Chapter Ten

“Do you think Dad will go to jail for a long time?” Molly asked, as she, Justin, and Finlay walked through the grounds at PIFA. 

“I don’t think so.”

“Do you wish he was?”

“Honestly? Yeah, I do.” He reached down and picked up Finlay, holding the boy against his chest. “Nothing gave him the right to do what he did. He’s just mad at me for not living the way he wants me to. And at this point, nothing I do could ever make him happy. And I came to the realization a long time ago that my life is mine, not his.”

“What do you mean?”

“It’s perfectly normal for other people to have expectations of you. But when you start subjugating who you are to keep them happy, when you stop living as you know you should, then you’re cheating yourself. The only thing you can do is figure out what you want, what you’re meant to be and do, and do it, and hope everyone who claims to love you can support your decisions.”

“What if they don’t?”

“Then they don’t really love you. Not in the way they should, anyway. They might view it as love, as tough love, even, but it’s not really love.”

“So you don’t think Dad loves you?” Molly stopped walking and sat down heavily on a bench at the edge of the quad.

“No, I don’t.” Justin sat down beside her and set Finlay on his lap. “I think he views it as love. He wants what he thinks is best for me. But it’s so twisted that it doesn’t resemble love at all.” He idly brushed Finlay’s hair away from his forehead, taking note of the warm late April air as he did so.

“Do you think he’ll be the same way with me?”

“He could be. I don’t think you should be surprised if he is. He has a very set way of thinking, and he knows exactly what he wants from each of us, Mom included. The moment we fail to live up to that is the moment he lets us know we aren’t good enough. But the truth is, we are. We’re better than good enough. He just can’t recognize it, and he’s missing out on a lot because of it.” He gazed across the quad toward the student union. “Are you hungry? Let’s get something to eat.”

“Juice, Daddy!” Finlay exclaimed as Justin set the boy on his feet.

“We’ll get you some, don’t worry.” He smiled as Molly took Finlay’s hand and began leading him across the quad, Justin following behind them as he listened to his son and his sister chatter.

***

Justin sat beside Brian in the first row of the courthouse behind the district attorney’s desk. Jennifer sat to Justin’s right, her arm through her son’s. Craig Taylor had waived the right to a trail, so they’d only had to take time out of their lives to listen to the judge’s decisions regarding the man’s fate.

“Mr. Taylor.” Judge Hopkins stared down from the bench, her green eyes drilling into the man before him. “It’s undeniable that you were, in fact, the one to run down Mr. Kinney. Not only was the incident recorded, but it was witnessed by several people who have since identified you. Clearly, you are guilty of the crime of which you’ve been accused, assault in the first degree.”

“Your honor, my client was only trying to protect his son.”

“Sit down, Mr. Henderson.” Judge Hopkins glared at the Armani-clad man until he once again sank into his chair. “Whether or not Mr. Taylor sought to protect his son is highly subjective. I doubt young Mr. Taylor or Mr. Kinney see it that way. And it’s irrelevant to this case. Craig Taylor, for assault in the first degree, you are hereby sentenced to twelve months’ incarceration, minus time served. Bailiff?”

***

“You okay?” Brian asked quietly as they stood in the kitchen later that night as they cleaned up after dinner. Finlay was safely ensconced in his playpen in the living room.

“Yeah, fine. Why?”

“Why do you think?”

“He stopped being my father a long time ago, Brian. I’m okay with this. Honest. I just want to forget him and get on with our lives.”

“That we can do.” Brian offered him a slight smile, then gently pushed Justin against the refrigerator, his lips immediately finding those of the younger man, trapping him against the cold surface of the appliance with a heated kiss. “Table’s empty,” he whispered against Justin’s lips a moment later.

“I wanna fuck you.”

“Fin can entertain himself for a little while, I guess,” Brian replied with a smile, reaching down and popping open the buttons on his jeans, then turning and stepping over to the table. He turned again, his eyes meeting his husband’s, then hopped up onto the table. “Come on, Blondie, time’s a-wastin’.”

Finaly’s calls for his Papa’s attention drifted through the mens’ post-coital haze a short time later and, groaning, they climbed off the table and quickly got dressed before heading into the living room.

“I think I might need another massage after all that,” Brian remarked with a smirk as he picked up Finlay, then once again set him down so he could play with the toy car that had caught his attention while in the playpen.

***

“Are you sure you don’t want to go to Paris or somewhere equally impressive?” Brian asked, flipping through travel brochures he’d picked up from his agent after his appointment to have his cast removed the following week.

“I’m sure. You?”

“As long as we can relax I really don’t care.”

“I can’t imagine really relaxing someplace like Paris. There’d be too much to see and do, you know?”

“Though we can’t spend all of our time relaxing.”

“A week in New York?” Justin looked up from where he sat on the floor playing with Gus. The boy was nearly the same age Finlay was when Justin and Brian had first met. Justin smiled at the thought as he took in the man in front of him.

“Daddy?” Finlay pulled on his sleeve slightly in an effort to get his attention. “Pay wi Gu?”

“You can play with Gus if you want. Just be careful, okay? Cause he’s a lot smaller than you.”

“Baby.”

“Yeah, he is, and you’re bigger than he is.”

“’Kay.” He sat down in front of the smaller boy and held up his prized green ball. “Gu? Baw. Pay wi baw.”

“Show him how to play with it. Roll it to him.”

“Ro?”

“Yeah, roll it.”

Finlay looked at his father, doubt written all over his face, but did as he was told and was rewarded with a burst of laughter from Gus which, in turn, made him laugh. Brian watched the boys for a moment, then slid off the sofa until he was laying on his side, facing his family.

***

Justin picked up the stack of books that had been left on a table by a less-than-gracious non-customer. He studied their spines for a moment. Sci-fi. Go figure, he thought as he quickly alphabetized the books and headed across the store toward the proper section. Suddenly a boy, about ten years old, darted from between two rows of bookcases and nearly slammed into him.

“Watch it, fag.”

“Excuse me. What did you say?”

“You heard me.”

“Yeah, I did. I just wanted to make sure I heard you right.” He looked past the boy, surprised to see a familiar woman hurrying toward them.

“John! Will you behave for five minutes? Just five! That’s all I ask. Just long enough to find that book for your grandmother,” she demanded, grabbing the boy’s arm and shoving him in the direction from which it came. “Go help Peter look for it.” She sighed heavily and watched her son trudge away before turning her gaze back to Justin. “Have we met?”

“Not officially. Justin Taylor.”

“Why do you look so familiar?”

“Run-in in the children’s department at Nordstrom’s a couple months ago.”

“Right. You’re Brian’s, um . . .”

“Husband.”

“Our mother would die if she ever heard that.”

“She did. And I assume she’s still alive, since you’re shopping for her.” He turned slightly and deposited the stack of books on the corner of a nearby table before turning to face Claire once again. “It might be a good idea to teach your son to stop calling people ‘fags,’ though. Aside from the fact that it’s incredibly rude, it might get him into trouble if he says it to the wrong person.”

“I don’t need advice on raising my children. Especially from you.”

“Just trying to offer a little friendly advice.” He offered her a tight smile, then picked up the books again and began walking away. 

“What do you see in him?”

“Excuse me?” He stopped, then turned and looked at Claire again. She looked so much older than she actually was; Brian was definitely right about that. Dark circles had formed under her eyes and her jowls were already obvious.

“I just . . . I don’t get it. He’s not a nice person. Never has been. He’s always been rude, sarcastic, always thought he was better than everyone else . . . I know my mother is wrong about a lot of things, but she’s not wrong about that,” Claire remarked, crossing her arms over her chest. “So what can you possibly see in him?”

“Everything that no one else does,” he replied as Claire’s boys made their way over to them again.

“It’s not here, Mom!” Peter remarked.

“It was here yesterday, so keep looking!”

“But Mom!”

“Peter! Shut up and do as I tell you!”

“What are you looking for?” Justin asked, still cradling the stack of books in his arms.

“Just this book about knitting . . . my grandmother wants it.”

“Check the clearance shelves . . . I think those just got marked down this morning.” 

“Thanks.” Peter wandered off again as Claire let out a sigh of exasperation.

“Sometimes I wonder what it would be like if I’d never had them. My life would be so different.”

“Maybe. But it wouldn’t necessarily be better.”

“Kids drain the life right out of you. You become this . . . shell . . . of what you were . . . what you could have been. They take everything.”

“It’s too bad you feel that way. Most people think children add to their lives. I know mine do.”

“Somehow I can’t imagine Brian feeling that way. Speaking of Brian . . .” She nodded toward the door as Brian stepped into the store, Finlay’s small hand held in his larger one. Brian was impeccably dressed, as always, in a gray Armani suit with a white shirt and red tie.

Seemingly overwhelmed by the enormity of the store, Finlay stopped and inched closer to Brian’s legs. The older man aimed a slight smile at Justin, then crouched down beside the little boy, his hands resting on the child’s sides, holding him steady as he whispered in his ear. Then, letting go, he nodded at his son and watched as, a moment later, the little boy ran over to Justin.

“Daddy!”

“Hey little guy.” He set the books down again, then reached down and lifted Finlay into his arms. “Did you have a good time at daycare?” He pressed a kiss to Finlay’s cheek, then leaned back and studied him. The little boy had grown so much in the last few months. It was just recently that he’d become comfortable enough with running to go short distances without obvious fear of falling over.

“Payed in da sanbox!”

“Really? Was it fun?”

“Yeah.” He burst into giggles, then leaned forward and wrapped his little arms around Justin’s neck. “Fun, Daddy.”

“I can imagine.”

“He was such a mess when I got there,” Brian said, walking over to them. “Lori was still wiping the dirt off him.”

“That just means he’s getting to the really fun stage. And that I’ll have to find him a set of finger paints soon.”

“It means he’s getting to the ‘let’s wipe my dirty hands on my dad’s nice expensive clothes’ stage,” Brian groused.

“I keep telling you not to wear Prada in the house.”

“Prada is my god, and I shall worship in the temple of my choosing.” He smirked at Justin, then leaned forward and pressed a quick kiss to his lips before turning his attention to his sister. “Claire.”

“Brian.”

“Daddy!”

“Yes?” Justin asked, reaching forward and brushing Finlay’s soft blond hair away from his forehead as the little boy twisted in his arms.

“Thirsty!”

“Let’s go get you something to drink, then.” He stepped close to Brian, catching his lips in a quick kiss. “I’ll be back in a few minutes, and then we can get out of here.”

“How old is he, Brian?” Claire asked once Justin was out of earshot, her hands on her hips as she stared at her brother.

“Is there something you want?”

“You could get into serious trouble! What if his parents decide to press charges?”

“He was emancipated when he was sixteen. His parents can’t do anything.”

“And Mom’s met him?”

“She came by our home one day. Unannounced, as always. So of course she met him. She met our kids, too. I’m not going to hide them away, pretend they don’t exist and aren’t important to me just because she doesn’t agree with how I live my life.” He looked away from her and immediately spotted Justin and Finlay walking toward them. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, my husband and son are waiting,” he remarked, turning and walking away from his sister.

***

Justin carefully lowered Finlay into a highchair, then slid the chair closer to the booth before taking a seat across from Brian. He smiled as the older man stretched his legs until their legs became tangled beneath the tabletop.

“So what did my sister want?”

“Nothing important.”

“You can tell me.”

“I know. And you know I don’t keep secrets from you. But it wasn’t important.” He studied Brian’s doubtful expression. “Seriously, it wasn’t.” 

“Let me guess . . . she wanted to know why you’re with me, when it’s obvious I’m really an arrogant asshole who doesn’t care about anyone but myself.”

“Pretty much.”

“And what’d you say?”

“That I see in you what other people don’t.” He offered Brian a small smile. “And, honestly, that works both ways. There are plenty of people who wonder what you see in me.”

“Fuck ‘em.”

“Speaking of fucking, I talked to Andrea today.” Justin waited until Kiki had finished setting their orders in front of them before continuing. “She has everything set. A suite at the Tribeca Grand Hotel and a second room for Daphne.”

“Why are you staying in a hotel with Daphne?” Emmett suddenly materialized before them, instantly reaching down and brushing the fine hair away from Finlay’s forehead as the little boy quietly ate the macaroni and cheese that had been placed in front of him moments earlier. “Mind if I join you?” He wriggled out of his fuzzy blue coat and plunked himself down beside Brian.

“Typically one waits for an answer that usually consists of a yes or a no.”

“I’m not typical.”

“Of course not.”

“Deb! Coffee!”

“Keep your pants on!” the red-haired woman yelled back.

“So? What’s going on?” He looked at them expectantly. “Cause it sounds like a honeymoon or something.” Emmett took in the look that passed between the two men. “Oh my god, you _are_ going on a honeymoon! Where? I promise I won’t tell! Promise promise promise.” 

“New York for a week, and then our house outside of Chicago,” Justin replied, taking a bite of his cheeseburger.

“Wait, you have another house? When did you get another house?”

“It’s my great grandmother’s house. She left it to us in her will. I used to spend a lot of time there when I was a kid. It’s just the most beautiful country house . . .”

“Brian Kinney, owner of a country estate? Will wonders never cease?”

“Shut up, Emmett.”

“Sut up!” Finlay echoed.

“Brian! Seriously, if he starts telling people to shut up and calling Mel and Lindsay ‘munchers’ then you’re getting all the credit.”

“That’s okay, they’ll think I put him up to it, anyway.” Brian smiled, then reached over and wiped some stray applesauce from Finlay’s mouth. As he did so, he took note of Debbie; the older woman had a tray balanced precariously against her shoulder and, as she passed, she allowed her eyes to rake over them before once again facing the direction in which she was walking.

“Oh!” Emmett began bouncing up and down in his seat. “Have I told you my good news?”

“Would we really care?”

“I met someone,” he continued, ignoring Brian for the time being and focusing on Justin as he spoke. “His name is Paolo. He’s from Argentina. And guess what? He’s a dancer!”

“They’re good. Very flexible. At least you’ll have fun.”

“Brian!” Emmett glared at him for a moment, as though the other man were disparaging his soul mate.

“What? I fucked a few dancers,” he replied as Emmett almost imperceptibly nodded in Justin’s direction. 

“This is so not an appropriate conversation.”

“Emmett. We’re at the diner . . . on the gayest street in a semi-gay city in a mostly non-gay state. If I can’t talk about past fucks here, then there’s no hope for humanity,” he replied, looking over at Justin as the blond burst out laughing. He smiled and added, “Dancers also have really good balance. Imagine what you could do with that.” Then he arched an eyebrow and once again began stirring his coffee.

***

Brian stood in the doorway the office-slash-studio that he shared with Justin and studied the younger man as he began applying red paint to the piece he was working on. The midday sun beating in through the large windows had made the room exponentially hotter than the rest of their home, so Justin had taken off his shirt and tossed it on a nearby chair. Now, as he worked, Brian was able to glimpse the younger man’s muscle as it moved beneath his toned skin.

To the untrained eye Justin really didn’t appear all that muscular. And compared to many of the denizens of Babylon, he wasn’t. Yet taken as a single entity, and closely scrutinized, it became obvious that he had enough definition to qualify as muscular without being _too_ muscular. And Brian was sure, once the younger man got to the point in college where he was working with different forms of sculpture he would gain even more definition.

“Planning to stand there all day?” Justin asked quietly, his grin obvious in his tone, as he dipped his brush in cleaner, then once again in paint, this time light blue.

“Just watching you work.”

“Once this summer’s over there’ll be plenty of chances for that.” He dabbed the blue onto the canvas, then stood back and admired it for a moment.

“Nervous?”

“About PIFA? No, not really. It’s just gonna be crazy at first, figuring out how to balance everything. I think my advisor’s a little worried about that.” He crossed over to the counter and swirled the brush in some turpentine, then wiped it on a rag before putting it in a jar to dry. He quickly washed his hands and turned back to Brian as he dried them.

“You’re gonna be great, you know,” Brian said quietly, crossing the room so that he was standing directly in front of his husband. He hooked his index fingers through Justin’s belt loops and stepped closer so that they were just inches apart.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.” Brian leaned forward, capturing Justin’s lips in a slow, sensual kiss.

“So talking about my future greatness turns you on?” Justin asked with a smile.

“Success has always turned me on. That should be obvious.” He released the belt loops, then deftly popped open the button and pulled down the zipper. Smiling, he dropped to his knees, pulling Justin’s jeans down as he did so.

***

Justin carried Finlay down the stairs, setting him on his feet once they reached the bottom, then made his way over to the luggage carefully piled by the front door. Their flight to New York was due to leave at 10:00 the following morning, and he wanted to make sure they had everything ready to go in advance. Whereas Justin had once been the master of procrastination, since Finlay’s birth he’d become a huge fan of being ready for things in advance. He was about to begin looking through his carryon to make sure he had everything when there was a knock at the door.

“You know what, Fin? Your other dad’s not gonna be happy to learn the super still hasn’t fixed the door downstairs.” He reached down and picked up the little boy, holding him tightly against his side, then opened the front door. “Hi Debbie.”

“Justin.” Her voice was quiet, almost nervous, actually. She shifted from foot to foot and looked everywhere but Justin and Finlay for as long as she could before meeting Justin’s eyes once again.

“Is there something I can do for you?”

“Um, yeah. I was just hoping Brian was around.”

“He’s upstairs. Come on in.” He held the door open all the way, sighing inwardly as she passed into the living room. He carefully closed the door. “Have a seat.”

“He’s getting big.” She smiled and nodded in Finlay’s direction as Justin set the boy down.

“Yeah. A little bigger every day.” He reached down and lightly ran his fingers through his son’s hair as Brian came downstairs, his camera case in his hand. The older man immediately noticed the red-haired woman sitting on the sofa.

“Deb. What’re you doing here?” He stepped around Justin and made his way to the pile of suitcases. He located his carryon and unzipped it, then put the camera inside.

“I just thought I’d stop by. We haven’t talked in a while,” she replied, watching Brian as he returned the bag to its perch atop a large case. “How’ve you been?”

“Good.” He hated these kinds of confrontations . . . ones that were inherently uncomfortable. It wasn’t something he’d ever anticipated happening with Debbie, but here they were, in his living room, with miles of awkwardness stretching between them. He sighed loudly, then pinched the bridge of his nose. “So what do you want, Deb?” He made his way over to the chair opposite her and sat down heavily.

“You look good,” Deb said quietly. She studied Brian for a moment, almost as if seeing him for the first time, before turning and gazing around the living room. “This place is gorgeous.”

“It’s mostly Justin’s doing.”

“Christ, the last time I was here there were boxes everywhere. And the walls were bare. This place is like a fucking gallery.”

“That was sort of our intention. So what’re you doing here? Surely you didn’t come by to compliment the décor,” he replied, as Justin returned and handed him a bottle of water and two Excedrin. He smiled his thanks, then watched the younger man as he handed Finlay a cracker from the packet he’d brought with him from the kitchen before leading him over to his toy box.

“You seem happy.” She studied Justin as he crouched beside his son and helped him look for a toy. “When I saw you at the diner last week I think I just sort of realized, for the first time, really, that you have a family of your own.”

“And it took you this long to figure that out? Why’s that?”

“I honestly don’t know. You tried telling me. Justin tried. But I couldn’t see it, despite everything that’s happened. And I’m sorry for that.” When Brian remained silent, she continued. “I just know that . . . family dinners aren’t the same without you. Vic and I miss having you there.”

“You know why I stopped coming, right? The feeling of family just wasn’t there anymore.”

“I don’t understand.”

“And I don’t know if I can explain it more clearly,” he replied, as Justin carried Finlay over to them, depositing the boy and his stuffed Elmo on the carpet. He leaned against the chair Brian occupied and crossed his arms over his chest.

“It became an exercise in defensiveness.” Justin narrowed his gaze as he regarded Debbie. “We spent every dinner defending ourselves, our relationship, the choices we’ve made . . . every time we’d run into you or Michael or even Ted we’d have to defend not only our relationship, but the foundation it’s built on . . . I had to defend the way I raised my child, Brian had to defend his desire to be a parent because that wasn’t something any of you had ever expected . . . it’s like everyone has a role to play.”

“Obviously, you’re the mother hen,” Brian interjected. “Vic’s the ageing queen who keeps an eye on us, Emmett’s Vic in his younger days, albeit a bit more flamboyant, Ted’s the overly logical and analytical one doomed to romantic failure, Mel and Lindz are the lesbian mommies with the house in the suburbs, and Michael’s the beloved son who can do no wrong.” He studied her for a moment. “So where does that leave me and Justin, Deb?”

“I don’t . . .”

“I get to be the perpetual Peter Pan, never growing up, never _wanting_ to grow up, never wanting or having any responsibilities. And that’s so far off-base that it’s laughable. Because the thing is, my life forced me to grow up earlier than I should have. I know that now. So I couldn’t be that Peter Pan figure even if I tried.” He pinched the bridge of his nose again. “That’s one of the fundamental reasons why I’m with Justin and not Michael.”

“I had to grow up quickly, too. Though I’ll be the first to admit that it was my decision to do so. But that’s the one big thing Brian and I have in common. And it really doesn’t matter if no one else understands that.”

“And Michael . . . he’s still a kid.”

“He’s a kid at heart. There’s a difference,” Debbie remarked, raising her voice slightly and causing Finlay to look up from his furry red playmate. “Don’t try telling me that if things were different, that you wouldn’t be with Michael. I know you, Brian, and I know him. In the end, Michael always gets what he wants.”

“Because you give it to him,” Justin countered. “But you can’t give him Brian. And you can’t give him the relationship and the family that Brian and I have. That’s not up to you.” He watched as that realization slowly dawned on her, tears coming to her eyes as she grasped the full impact of his words.

“I just want him to be happy.”

“So do I. But he has to understand that our friendship isn’t going to be like it was. It’s going to be a long time, if ever, before I can forgive him for the way he’s treated Justin and our son. I can talk to him, I can be civil to him, but that’s about it.”

“We’re not going out of our way to hurt him,” Justin added as he reached down and brushed Finlay’s hair away from his forehead. “But we’re not going to put our lives on hold.”

***

Justin raised his arms above his head as he stretched, his back arching off the mattress as he attempted to work the tightness out of his muscles. With a satisfied groan he settled back down and allowed his eyes to sweep over the room that had once been his great grandparents’. The large four-poster bed dominated the room. The only real change they’d made since coming to the house a little over a week earlier was buying a new set of sheets and a duvet, all ruby red to contrast the darkness of the room’s interior.

He rolled over and looked at Brian. The older man was still asleep, his face buried in his pillow. Justin studied him for a moment, letting his eyes drift over his lean form, before sliding closer and gently touching Brian’s warm skin. His fingers skimmed over Brian’s shoulder blade and down to the small of his back before coming to a stop. He pushed himself up with one arm and began trailing kisses down Brian’s back.

“I know you’re awake,” he said after a moment, having noticed the change in his husband’s breathing, as it went from the calm and sedated breathing of sleep to a slightly erratic pattern. His smile grew wider as Brian remained silent. He let his hand drift lower.

“Having fun?”

“Uh huh.”

“Here.” He handed the younger man a tube of lube. “Have some more.”

“Yay,” he said in a little voice, laughing as Brian rolled over and tackled him into the mattress.

“ ‘Yay?’ I offer up my ass and you say ‘yay?’”

“Your ass is yay-worthy,” Justin replied, as Brian loomed above him. The other man arched an eyebrow and nodded slightly. “Brian! Don’t you dare!”

“You brought it on yourself.” He lunged forward, pinning Justin to the mattress as the younger man tried to roll away, and began tickling him.

***

“What are you thinking about?” Justin asked a short time later, as Brian watched him pull on a pair of basketball shorts and a white shirt.

“New York,” he replied, his eyes flickering toward the fireplace.

They’d been wandering through Chelsea, searching for someplace decent to have lunch, when a small gallery had caught Justin’s attention. He’d immediately dragged Brian inside.

“I thought you were starving?”

“Art waits for no one.” Justin had grinned, then hooked a finger through one of the belt loops of Brian’s jeans. “I just want to look. Then we can find someplace for lunch.” They’d slowly circled the gallery, looking at the paintings and sculptures. While he’d been looking at one abstract, trying to figure out exactly what it was supposed to represent, Justin had wandered off to look at the sculptures.

“Brian, come here,” he’d called from across the room.

“What?”

“Look.” On a white rectangular pedestal sat a sculpture, roughly two feet tall, of two men, nude, their arms around each other, one’s head resting on the other’s shoulder, while the other seemed to be whispering in his ear. “We could put it on the dresser.” He turned and faced Brian. “What do you think?”

“Hm?” Brian snapped out of his reverie, tearing his gaze away from the sculpture that now sat on the mantle in the master bedroom, and returning his attention to Justin.

“I was just asking what you thought of maybe heading to the lake and having a picnic with Fin and Daph.” He sat down on the edge of the bed and began pulling on his sneakers. “Speaking of Daph, we really should do something special for her. I mean, she’s agreed to give up a month of her last summer before college to watch Fin so we could have a honeymoon and still not be totally separated from him. And it’s not like there’s a whole lot for her to do out here.”

“Any ideas?” Brian reached over and snuffed out his cigarette in the ashtray he’d placed on the nightstand.

“Not one.”

“Hm . . . let me ask the go-to girl.” He retrieved his cell phone and hit number three on his speed dial. “Cyn, hey, it’s me.”

“Aren’t you on your honeymoon? Shouldn’t you be off fucking like bunnies?”

“We have and we will again.”

“So why are you calling the office, then?”

“I need a woman’s advice.”

“Since when do you ever need a woman’s advice?” she asked, clearly on the verge of laughter.

“Since Justin and I have decided that we need to do something special for Daphne. And being that we’re not women, how the fuck should we know what she’d like? That’s where you come in.”

“Aw, that’s so sweet, Brian. It was all Justin’s idea, wasn’t it?”

“Well, it’s not as if I disagreed. Now are you going to help or what?”

“Hm, I suppose,” she replied, drawing out the last word. “Oh! I know! Every girl needs pampering . . . what about a visit to a spa?”

“I love you. Seriously, I do. If I’d ever gone searching for a wife, you’d have been at the top of the list.”

“You’re such a fucking liar.”

“That’s a great idea, though. Okay, your mission: find a nice one in Chicago, book three days with the works at the end of this month. Call me back when you have everything set.”

“Sure thing. Enjoy the rest of your honeymoon.”

“That’s the plan.” He snapped the phone shut and returned it to the nightstand. His eyes drifted back to Justin, who was watching him expectantly. “Cynthia recommended a spa. Because apparently girls like that sort of thing. They need to be pampered and made all pretty and whatnot.”

_“You_ like that sort of thing,” he replied, jumping up and racing out of the bedroom before Brian had a chance to tickle him again.

***

“I learned to swim here,” Justin said quietly as he reclined against Brian on the blanket they’d brought with them. “My parents were, like, totally absent when I was Fin’s age, or I would have learned sooner. Anyway, I stayed with Gran for a week when I was three, and she brought me out here and taught me.”

“Well, we have two weeks left to teach Fin.”

“Yup. Though something tells me he’s not really up for it today.” He smiled as he looked over at his son, who was curled up asleep on the blanket, his thumb in his mouth.

“Do you want me to take him back to the house?” Daphne asked, wandering over to them, a bunch of wildflowers in her right hand.

“Yeah, thanks, Daph. Just let me put him in the stroller. There’s no way you can carry him all the way back to the house.” He stood with a groan, then leaned over and picked up Finlay. The little boy really didn’t weigh that much, but he felt twice as heavy as normal when he was asleep. He placed a light kiss on the side of the child’s head, then carefully set him in the stroller.

“We’ll be there in a little while,” Brian said from his position on the blanket. The girl nodded, then began pushing Finlay down the path that lead from the lake, through the woods, and to the house.

Justin made his way over to the edge of the lake and stared at the crystal clear water. He pulled off his sneakers and tossed them in the grass, then added his socks to the pile, before stepping into the water. Sighing, he tilted his head back and studied the sky. It was so blue, the same blue he remembered from childhood.

“You know . . . I’ve always wanted to go skinny dipping in the lake.”

“Is this like your leather couch fantasy?”

“Mm, something like that.” He turned and smiled at Brian, then quickly undressed and added the rest of his clothes to the pile he’d started before stepping further into the water. “Coming?” He swam further into the small lake until his feet barely touched the bottom, then turned and watched as Brian undressed and followed him into the water’s warm depths. Brian immediately pulled Justin close and caught his lips in a searing kiss. Justin let his hands roam until they found Brian’s slender hips, his fingertips kneading the other man’s skin as they kissed while the water lapped against them.

“You know,” he remarked, as Brian pulled away from the kiss and Justin wrapped his arms around Brian’s shoulders and his legs around his waist, “we could never have done this in Paris.”


End file.
